


The Prophet's Plummet

by thraenthraen



Series: The Place Where I'll Always Remain [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Astoria Greengrass Lives, Bilingual Character(s), Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Bisexuality, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Gay Ron Weasley, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Good Slytherins, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nonbinary Character, Other, POV Ginny Weasley, Panic Attacks, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Welsh Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27804901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thraenthraen/pseuds/thraenthraen
Summary: Unapologetically queer, post-war coming-of-age story about queer identity, activism, etc. with a slow-burn Astoria/Ginny romance at its centre. All main protagonists are queer and/or trans. There's queer history, good Slytherins, and close, inter-house friendships.New chapters read live on Twitch every Monday starting at 12noon Pacific (19:00 UTC) on Twitch (twitch.tv/thraenthraen) and then posted here shortly after final edits. (Warning: some spoilers are bound to happen there!)
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Original Character(s), Eventual Ginny Weasley/Astoria Greengrass, Ginny Weasley/Original Character(s)
Series: The Place Where I'll Always Remain [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034307
Comments: 45
Kudos: 32





	1. The Holyhead Harpies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: bodily fluids (vomit), reference to language that is derogatory toward the Welsh language, panic attack/mental health crisis, alcohol mention
> 
> British-ism note: “speaking Welsh” is a euphemism for vomiting.

> Wednesday, 10 November 1999. Holyhead Harpies Quidditch Stadium.

“How are you feeling, Ginny?” 

Ginny turned. Mark Wattleburst, one of the assistant coaches for the Harpies, had walked up behind her. 

“Nervous,” Ginny admitted. She looked back out at the stands. Tonight would be her first time actually playing an official match for the Harpies. Tonight, she’d soar out with the rest of the starting line-up, rather than just sitting on the bench as a reserve player in case anyone was incapacitated during the match. Nervous was an understatement.

“I bet,” he said. It was somehow reassuring. “My first match with the Bats, I got sick soon as the whistle blew.”

“Really?”

“I was a veritable fountain of vomit. I’m a bit of a stress eater, you know. Had a fair bit in me.” He grinned, and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. “ _The Daily Prophet_ went with ‘Welshieburst’ the next day, and that name stuck with me for years.”

“Is that why you work for the Harpies?” Ginny teased. 

“Might be why Averford offered me the job, if I’m honest. She loves a good headline. ‘The Welsh Bat Goes to Wales.’” He laughed and then looked at Ginny with a look of mock seriousness. “My point, Ginny, is that if you’re looking for a fun nickname to follow you the rest of your career, just punch another bludger. I’m sure someone will come up with something clever.” 

“Merlin, you know about that?” Ginny hadn’t thought about her final Hogwarts quidditch match in months. Despite the slew of injuries and losing the Cup, it had been one of Ginny’s favourite matches of her school career. 

“Of course. Jones told the whole team. Personally, I think it sounds mad, but of course she thought you were brilliant. You know Jones.” Gwenog Jones was one of the fiercest beaters in the entire league and widely known for her aggressive playstyle. She was one of the reasons Ginny had first loved the Harpies as a child.

“Maybe I’ll ask her to pass me one tonight then. Give it a good whack and solidify my career as the bat-less beater. I don’t want to be known for spewing, after all.”

“You know, Ginny, I think if you just skip spewing, you’ll be okay. No need to shatter every bone in your hand. The healers probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.” Ginny thought of her old quidditch healer with a sudden pang. Astoria Greengrass. Ginny had yet another unopened letter from Astoria buried somewhere in her room, nagging at her conscience like the rest of Astoria’s letters. 

“I think I’m going to go get changed,” Ginny said abruptly. 

“Of course.”

“I just want to, you know…” Ginny didn’t bother finishing her sentence. 

Mark nodded, and she walked into the locker rooms. 

Ginny was shaking from head to toe as she stood with the rest of the Harpies’ starting line-up. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and her palms were sticky with sweat. There was no way she was going to be able to mount her broom like this. The announcer was welcoming everyone to the match, but it sounded like a countdown to her doom.

“Don’t worry, Wealsey,” Jones said. “The nasty beater is on _your_ team this time.” She winked at Ginny.

“And now let’s welcome the ferocious women of the Holyhead Harpies!” The announcer’s voice echoed. The crowd roared. One by one, he called Ginny’s teammates, and one by one, they left her to screams and cheers. 

“See you out there,” Marzie, Ginny’s fellow chaser and flatmate, said when her name was called. She squeezed Ginny’s shoulder, and then she was gone, leaving Ginny alone with her pounding heart and sweating palms.

“And finally,” the announcer shouted, “taking to the pitch for the Harpies for the very first time and flying in her first ever professional quidditch match, please raise your wands and your voices for our very own _GINNY WEASLEY!_ ” Ginny took a deep breath, swung her leg over her broom, and kicked off, shooting out of the locker rooms and into the stadium and its deafening roar. 

Whatever nerves Ginny had felt seemed to fall away as she soared around the pitch with her teammates. Screams, cheers, wands up all over the stadium. And then she saw it: a giant pair of harpy wings in the crowd, a sign held from talon to talon that said, “GO GINNY.” Underneath, it seemed almost all of her old school friends and family had gathered, with Luna in the middle, holding out the massive harpy wings she’d surely made herself. Ginny grinned from ear to ear.

“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!” her teammates and coaches chanted in the locker rooms after the match. Jones and Son, their starting keeper, were carrying Ginny on their shoulders. They’d won the match by a long shot, 360-10 (the Cannons’ only goal was off a penalty), and Ginny had scored a good deal of those goals—thanks in large part to constant assists from Marzie. 

“Ginny!” several people screamed. Someone had let her friends in too, and a giant pair of harpy wings made their way through the sea of friends and teammates to give her a great, big, feathered hug. Soon, she was pulled down into hugs with all the friends and family who had come to watch the match. 

Eventually, Jones shooed their guests out so the team could all shower and change into robes that were a bit less sweaty and filthy. Ginny hung back to talk to Luna, relieved for an excuse to avoid being in the showers at the same time as her teammates. 

When she was sure everyone else had finished, she said goodbye and went to clean up alone. Marzie had already warned Ginny about her surprise party, so she took extra time to scrub away at the dirt and sweat and put on nicer robes than she would have otherwise. 

Marzie’s warning, however, had done little to truly prepare her. As Ginny’s flatmate, Marzie had been tasked with bringing her to the party. She apparated them both to an empty cliffside, sea breeze blowing a steady layer of rain and mist into their faces. They hiked for a bit along the coastal trail, hopping past the deep mud puddles that littered the path. Finally, Marzie stopped, tapped her wand on a couple rocks, and pointed up the hillside. 

Slowly at first, stones and bricks and other support burst forth from the ground and began assembling themselves into a structure, and then it quickly sped up, a swirl of construction pulling the hidden house into being. Someone had attached Luna’s harpy wings above the front door, flapping every so often. 

“I think Gwenog likes the wings,” Marzie said with a grin. She cast a quick charm to clean the mud off both of them. Then she opened the door and led Ginny inside, where Ginny was immediately swarmed once again with cheers and hugs and beers. 

The house, despite not being particularly small, was absolutely packed. Everyone on the Harpies—from her teammates to coaches to Teresa Averford herself, the manager of the Harpies—was there. Harry (well, Hermione, really) had rallied Dumbledore’s Army, and just about everyone who wasn’t in school or out of the country had made it. Rhianna had likewise rallied their old quidditch mates and dragged Ginny to another room that had been decorated from floor to ceiling to commemorate Ginny’s lifetime of quidditch, arranged like a timeline.

Ginny didn’t bother asking who or how anyone could have pulled it all together. Without a doubt, this was Rhianna’s handiwork, despite her insistence that she’d “had a lot of help.” It was immense, detailed, and far too thoughtful to be anyone else’s doing. 

Rhianna directed her to the leftmost end of the timeline, littered with photos and letters Rhianna must have gotten from Ginny’s mum. A photo of Fred waving his toy broom just out of reach of an infant Ginny. A teenage Charlie flying just above the ground with Ginny, grinning from ear to ear, held tightly in one arm. A note Ginny wrote when she was eight asking Dumbledore to let her come to Hogwarts early and play quidditch. Ticket stubs from when her dad took her to her very first quidditch match, Harpies vs Falcons, the day she’d first fallen in love with the team.

Ginny’s first years at Hogwarts were an array of muddy school robes; notes and letters about their secret midnight quidditch league, the Baddest Witches; ripped out pages from books on how to heal common quidditch injuries; a smear of murtlap essence. Educational decrees and a menacing photo of the Inquisitorial Squad were juxtaposed with a hand-drawn logo for the Baddest Witches, the illegal club Umbridge never even suspected existed. 

After Umbridge, Ginny lingered on a drawing of the squid yanking Astoria off her broom and into the lake, one of their many post-quidditch, late-night adventures Fifth Year. Despite the twinge of guilt over unanswered letters, it was Ginny’s favourite part of the entire timeline. The Ginny in the drawing screamed in horror every time Astoria vanished beneath the surface and ignored Astoria’s laughter each time she resurfaced, too relieved to care that she was being made fun of. In one single drawing, Dean had captured the reckless joy of those nights perfectly, when Ginny could forget about the war brewing just beyond the Hogwarts gates and laugh until first light with Rhianna and Astoria. She missed those nights desperately, and she missed Astoria even more.

The timeline ended in front of a large fireplace, fully decked out in the green and gold of the Harpies, the final culmination of all those years of dreaming. 

“There are a few other people who want to pass on their congratulations,” Rhianna said, pointing to the fire. “McGonagall didn’t think letting students attend an off-campus party on a weekday night was a good idea for some reason, so this is the best we could do.” 

“You’re brilliant,” Ginny reassured her. “This whole thing is brilliant.”

Rhianna grabbed a pot off the mantle and held it out to Ginny. “They’re all in Gryffindor Tower.” Ginny grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it in the fire, and knelt down to stick her head in the green flames.

“Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts,” Ginny said. Her head spun, and then she was looking into the Gryffindor Common Room which had, rather garishly, been decked out in the green and gold of the Harpies.

“Ginny!” Dennis shrieked. “Guys, Ginny’s here!” The common room erupted with cheers. The entire Gryffindor team was there to congratulate her, along with several others who weren’t in Gryffindor, from Dumbledore’s Army and the Baddest Witches (er, “The Holyhead Harpies Youth Academy” now).

After the others had their chance to say their brief hellos and congratulations, Dennis pushed them all out of the way and laid down in front of the fire. “Ginny! Ginny! Did Rhianna show you the wall? How is it? Is it good? Jones promised she’d leave it up until we can come visit over Christmas.” His eyes were wide and sparkling, and he was bouncing his feet up and down. 

“It’s brilliant.”

“Rhianna says you absolutely pummelled the Cannons’ keeper,” Alexis said. She hovered over the fire and smiled. 

“Yeah, er, three hundred sixty to ten,” Ginny said. “I had nine goals.”

“We sure could have used some of those goals last weekend. Think I know how that Cannons’ keeper feels about now.” Crap, Ginny had forgotten about their match.

“Oh no. Was it that bad?”

“Astoria tried to kill me!” Dennis cried. 

“Did not.” Ginny’s stomach did a flip, and she whipped her head in the direction of the familiar voice. Astoria was sitting alone in a far corner, hunched over a pile of books and parchment, face still down. A small, silver badge gleamed on the front of her robes: _Head Girl_. She hadn’t joined the parade of hellos and congratulations.

“I have permanent brain damage now, Ginny,” Dennis said seriously.

“You are absolutely fine, Dennis.” Astoria leaned closer to one of her books, reading.

“She gave me a concussion!”

Astoria sighed loudly and looked up at Dennis. “You gave yourself an extremely mild concussion, and you are fine.” Astoria buried her face back in her work.

“Don’t listen to her, Ginny,” Dennis said. “You remember last year, don’t you? Astoria tried to kill me then too.”

“Dennis.” 

“Astoooooria,” Dennis whined back. 

She looked back up at him. Then she gave in, dropped her quill, and walked over to the fire. She sat down next to Dennis (who seemed well-pleased with himself now) and smiled weakly at Ginny. Up close, Ginny could see Astoria’s eyes were dark and puffy. Ginny wondered if she was getting enough sleep.

“So is the prize for beating Gryffindor at quidditch that you get to use our common room?” Ginny asked Astoria, trying to make a joke. 

“Don’t be daft,” Dennis said. “She’s only here to see you. She says we’re too loud.”

“Congrats, Ginny,” Astoria said. Her voice sounded flat, like she couldn’t or wouldn’t muster up the energy to put any feeling in her voice. “Rhianna said you were brilliant. I tried to sneak out, but McGonagall has been on me like a hawk all week.”

“You didn’t tell _me_ you were going to sneak out,” Dennis complained.

“It’s fine, Astoria,” Ginny said. “Sorry I missed your match though. I should have been there. Sounds like you slaughtered us.” 

Astoria just shrugged.

“Two hundred forty to twenty, Ginny,” Alexis groaned. “Astoria somehow taught those idiots how to hold a quaffle, and now Slytherin has an actual team, and not just Harrison and Death on a Broomstick over here.” She grinned at Astoria, who didn’t seem to notice.

Dennis looked between Astoria and Alexis and giggled, but Astoria shot him a look that shut him up immediately.

“Are they starting you from here on out, Ginny?” Astoria asked. “McGonagall can’t follow me around forever. I could probably sneak out for a match when she’s not expecting me to. I just couldn’t today because she knew I was trying and wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

“It’s fine, Astoria. You can come over Christmas. I’ll get you tickets.”

“You’re not supposed to tell me what you’re getting me for Christmas.” And then Astoria actually smiled. Ginny let out the breath she hadn’t even realised she was holding, a breath she must have been holding since the last time she actually saw Astoria over two months ago.

“Who said I'm getting you anything for Christmas? Bit presumptuous, really.”

Astoria rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “You should go back to your party. Rhianna has driven Gwenog absolutely mad planning everything.”

“Oh, _Gwenog_ is it?” Even Ginny wasn’t on first name basis with the Harpies team captain yet. Or, any of the team except Marzie, for that matter.

“Blame Rhianna. She’s the one who calls her Gwenog now. Or worse, _Gwenie_. They’ve had that Welsh nutter bond ever since Rhianna started plotting your party. Which you really should go back to.”

“Welsh nutter? I’m sure Rhianna loves that.”

“Go tell her. You know, at the party the rest of your body is at.”

“Maybe I like talking to you.” The words were out before Ginny could stop herself. 

Astoria’s smile faltered slightly. 

“Because you’re my friend,” Ginny quickly added. “I didn’t mean—I’m not—”

“Try the Slytherin fire sometime. There’s a lot less screaming and shouting there.” Astoria’s smile recovered. “Now really, go on. Rhianna will kill me if I don’t make you go back to the party she’s worked so hard on.”

“All right, I can take a hint. Thanks for suffering the screaming and shouting for a bit, Astoria.”

“Have fun, and congratulations again.” She paused, and then quickly said, “Love you, Ginny.” Before Ginny could respond, Astoria disappeared into the crowd of other students.

“Love you too, Astoria,” Ginny said quietly.

“I don’t think she can hear you,” Dennis said. “You should try shouting.” He grinned. 

Ginny sighed. “Thanks for getting everyone together for me.”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do this. You need to shout, Ginny.”

“Fine, tell her I said she was thoughtful.”

“Tell her you said she was awful? Okay, got it.” 

“I’ll tell her,” Alexis said. “Go enjoy your party.”

“Thanks, Alexis.”

“Oi, everyone!” Alexis shouted to the rest of the common room. “Say bye to Ginny!” The common room responded with some cheers and a quick parade of goodbyes and more congratulations, and then Ginny pulled her head back out of the fire and stood up, back entirely in Wales.

Ginny barely had a moment to breathe all night. There were speeches and toasts, embarrassing stories, way too many of her brother’s joke products, and a contagious current of joy running throughout the party. Ginny was pulled from one conversation to the next, dragged this way and that by all these people who were happy to see Ginny happy. It was incredible, and it was also a bit exhausting.

As the party began to wind down, Ginny found Rhianna, Eleri, and Jones laughing together on a sofa. It was all Welsh, so Ginny hadn’t a clue what they were saying, but that was half of the appeal. She slipped in between Rhianna and the armrest Eleri was perched on and dropped her head on Rhianna’s shoulder. 

“Don’t mind me, just napping,” Ginny said. “Carry on being Welsh.”

That earned a round of laughter, and Jones said something in Welsh that earned more laughs out of Rhianna and Eleri. Rhianna put her arms around Ginny and pulled her closer, laughing. 

“She secretly likes it,” Rhianna said. “You’ve just gotta smother her so she doesn’t bother fighting it.” She kissed the top of Ginny’s head. 

“Are you all making fun of me?” Ginny sighed.

“Gwenog says you’re awkward and shy,” Eleri said. “Ginny Weasley? Awkward and shy? I think she must have you confused with someone else.”

Ginny’s face flushed. “I’m not awkward. I’m _napping_.” She turned her face into Rhianna’s shoulder and pretended to sleep. 

“My god, it’s true.” Eleri jabbed her foot at Ginny’s side. “You’re being shy!”

Ginny grunted her disagreement, which only made the others laugh more. She was starting to regret her choice to come sit here. She’d been hoping to just check out for a bit while they carried on in Welsh, not have a bloody chat about how awkward she felt around Jones and the rest of the team. 

“Sure you don’t want to play quidditch, Rhianna?” Jones said. “Maybe she won’t hold her breath any time someone’s within six feet of her if we throw you on the team.”

Rhianna laughed. “She’s probably just awkward because she’s had a poster of you in her room ever since you started playing for the Harpies.” Rhianna squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. “She’s just starstruck.”

Ginny replied to that with an irritated shove at Rhianna’s stomach. Jones did not need to know how much time Ginny had spent staring at her. It was creepy and gross. 

“Oh, is that all?” Jones said. “Well, I’ve got a whole room covered in photos of Weasley. Pretty much a shrine, if I’m honest. No need to be awkward if it’s mutual, right?”

A pair of dark brown eyes, full of hurt and confusion, flashed through Ginny’s mind. She pushed away from Rhianna and stood up. “I need the toilet,” Ginny said. 

Rhianna tried calling after her, but Ginny ignored her and slipped down the hall, shaking. She reminded herself that she was just worked up because she’d actually _seen_ Astoria and heard her voice. It had made that night feel fresh and raw, that was all. She just—

Ginny stopped in the doorway. Fumbling around with each other, lips and hands all over, completely oblivious to Ginny’s need for a quiet place to calm or panic or just cry, were Ginny’s brother George and fellow Harpies chaser Ugonma Amaechi. Great, so even her brother got on with her teammates better than she did, and he’d just met Amaechi a few hours ago. Ginny’s mind replaced their bodies with hers and Astoria’s, and regret bubbled out of her in the form of a shriek.

“There are bedrooms for that, you know!” Ginny snapped.

They saw her and swore, but before they could do anything else, Ginny bolted. She fled through the house and out onto the empty deck, nearly slipping on the wet wood. She grabbed the railing and hunched over, begging her brain to shut up, desperate to block Astoria out. Maybe the rain could wash Astoria out of her. Maybe she could drown out the emptiness. Maybe Ginny herself could just drown and disappear.

 _Love you, Ginny_ , Astoria said, voice lighter than it had been hours ago, a cruel fantasy Ginny’s mind was teasing her with. Ginny felt Astoria’s arms wrapping around Ginny’s waist, trying to hug away Ginny’s distress. 

“Liar,” Ginny spat. She shook herself, as if Astoria really was holding onto her, as if she could escape. She knew Astoria wasn’t really there, but she shoved at the air anyway, reenacting for the millionth time the way she’d shoved Astoria away in August. Maybe if she just shoved hard enough, Astoria would stop trying to tell her it was okay. 

_Ginny_.

A pile of unopened, unanswered letters. Ginny hadn’t even come to Astoria’s match on Saturday. She hadn’t even remembered, or maybe she just didn’t want to remember. Empty promises of Hogsmeade visits, of Slytherin banners, of caring at all about Astoria’s life. Why couldn’t Astoria see that she was better off without Ginny?

_Try the Slytherin fire sometime._

“Stop it!” Ginny shouted, flailing angrily at the empty air, swatting raindrops as if she might somehow swat away the guilt clawing at her insides. 

“Er, sorry.”

Ginny froze and spun around. Ron was standing in the doorway, a look of worry on his face. _Ron._ The presence of her brother seemed to pull her back down to earth and quiet some of the panic that had gripped her so suddenly. She took a deep breath and found herself standing, shaking in the rain, cold and wet, with tears and snot running down her face. 

“Sorry,” Ginny said. She wiped at her face, trying to somehow pretend like she hadn’t just been having a knock-down, drag-out row with herself. 

“Neville wants to head out pretty soon,” Ron said. His voice, deep and steady and familiar, slowed Ginny’s pounding heart. “I was going to go with him and Harry, but, er—”

Ginny shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She took another breath to collect herself. “I’ll come say goodbye.”

“All right.” 

Ginny stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her brother. He seemed confused for a moment, and then he hugged her back. “You’re a good person, Ron,” Ginny said into his chest. She breathed in his warmth and the feeling of home.

Ron squeezed tighter, as if he suddenly understood. “You’re good too, Ginny.” Even though she knew he hadn’t a clue about what had happened with Astoria—Ginny hadn’t told anyone—it was somehow comforting anyway. 

When she let go, she let her brother lead her back inside. She said goodnight to Ron, Harry, and Neville, and then she made her way through the party to say goodnight to everyone else, shaken but breathing.

“Sorry about earlier,” Rhianna said when Ginny told her she was heading out.

“Whatever,” Ginny said. “It’s fine.” She didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it.

Rhianna frowned as if she knew it certainly was not fine, but she didn’t argue. “Let me know when you’ve got an evening free sometime. My mam’s been bugging about having you over for dinner before holiday madness starts up.”

“Sorry, just been busy with quidditch.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just let me know. We’ll make it work.” She smiled gently.

Ginny nodded, hugged Rhianna, and finished off her round of goodbyes.

“Ready?” Marzie said at the front door. She was less than sober, so she’d asked Ginny for a lift home to avoid the risk of a splinching accident.

“Yeah,” Ginny said, “let’s get out of here.” Then she stepped out into the rain again with her flatmate. A moment later, the noise of the slowly dying party disappeared in a crack. Ginny helped steady Marzie as they landed, and then they disappeared wordlessly to their separate rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginny is doing great! :D


	2. Y Crafanc Werdd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: panic attack/mental health crisis, other mental health issues, hangover, alcohol use, sexist language, verbal abuse

> Saturday, 27 November 1999. Ginny’s flat, Holyhead. Evening.

The sound of the floo bell pulled Ginny out of her thoughts suddenly, and the quaffle she’d been tossing landed on her face. Ugh. She tossed the ball aside, swore, and dragged her arse out of bed. How had she forgotten she was going out to dinner tonight? 

“One minute!” Ginny shouted. Then she remembered that she’d silenced the room when she stumbled in last night. She grabbed her wand off her dresser, flicked away the charm, and shouted again, “One minute!”

She stepped in front of the mirror and scowled. 

“You still look like shit, Ginny,” the mirror said.

“Oh, really?” Ginny snapped.

“Ooh, testy. I thought you were working on your anger?”

Ginny glared at the mirror as she tried to make her hair look a bit less like she’d spent the entire day sulking in bed. Stupid, cheeky mirror. Yes, sure, she was _working on her anger_ , but she hadn’t eaten anything since the weird prawn things at the Magpies’ estate last night, and she’d downed that with far too much alcohol. She was hungry and tired and hungover. She could manage her bloody anger when she actually had people to deal with. Like Ron, who was waiting for her in the living room, where Marzie was probably telling him all about how Ginny had spent the whole day sulking in her room. 

“So is it a date?” Ginny’s mirror said with obvious delight at Ginny’s irritation. “Is that why you’re just going out in pants?”

“I’m having dinner,” Ginny said. She decided her hair was good enough, flung open her wardrobe, and fished around for something that would pass for muggle on the walk over to Y Crafanc Werdd. “With my brother and his friends.”

“Well, I hardly think pants—”

“Oh, shut up.” Ginny pulled on a pair of jeans and an old Weird Sisters T-shirt. Good enough. Her coat could cover up the moving design while they walked over.

“It’s a good thing you’re not aiming to impress, dressing like that.”

“I can get rid of you, you know. Leave you in a dumpster or just incinerate you.”

“In that case, you look absolutely lovely, dear.” 

Ginny stepped closer to the mirror and prodded at her tired face. “Be helpful for once, will you?”

The mirror sighed. “You’ve got eye cream under the blue knickers in the corner. And with that outfit, just a bit of eyeliner will be plenty to match the look of those strange men on your shirt.”

“Thanks.” Ginny grabbed the eye cream, made a mental note to actually put it away, and went back to the mirror to wipe away the bags under her hungover eyes. Then, already abandoning her thoughts toward organisation, she tossed the eye cream over her shoulder. 

The mirror gave a tut of disapproval, but Ginny ignored it. She used her wand to put a thin line of eyeliner on both of her eyes, and then she stepped back and held out her arms. 

“How do I look?” Ginny asked, as if it mattered. 

“You look… lively,” the mirror said dryly.

“Good enough.” Ginny grabbed the door knob and yanked, only to be reminded she’d also locked the door to keep Marzie from getting any clever ideas like checking in on her. 

“You really are smarter than you look.” 

Ginny shot a dark look at the mirror as she unlocked the door. Then, she calmed her features, tried to breathe a better mood into her lungs, and opened the door.

“...love to!” Marzie was saying cheerfully as Ginny walked into the living room. “Let me just turn the oven off.” Then she turned and saw Ginny. “Oh, there you are, Ginny.” She smiled pleasantly, and Ginny did her best to return the look. “I thought you’d gone out.”

“I was reading,” Ginny lied. “Got really into my book and lost track of time.” Ginny could have burst out laughing at how absurd the lie was, but she was in no mood to laugh. 

Marzie seemed happy to believe Ginny was someone with the patience to sit and read though. Still smiling, she gave a small wave and disappeared toward the kitchen.

“Are you ready, Ron?” Ginny said.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Marzie’s coming. I invited her just now.”

“Oh.” Ginny tried not to look upset about it. “Great.” Marzie was great. She was kind, friendly, kept their communal spaces clean without being anal, and clearly liked Ginny. Which was exactly the problem.

“Oh, Ginny!” Marzie’s voice came from the kitchen. “You’ve got another letter.”

Ginny’s heart jumped up into her throat. Merlin, why was she hungover and tired? Ron probably saw the way her face reacted of its own accord.

“‘My dearest Ginny,’” Marzie called, in a much better posh accent than Ginny would have expected given her usually obvious Polish one.

Ginny felt ice run through her veins. The only person who addressed letters to her like that was Astoria. She gave up trying to fake calm, preferring instead to bolt to the kitchen to snatch her letter before Marzie read anything more incriminating.

“‘My bed is so cold without you here!’” Marzie read, giggling. 

Ginny’s stomach fluttered to life, only to find itself dragged down by the weight of Ginny’s conscience. _I never want to see you again._

“‘I think of you—’”

“Don’t you fucking touch my letters!” Ginny snapped as she entered, wand pointed at her flatmate. 

Marzie straightened up suddenly, hands up in surrender. “I haven’t—” she began, but Ginny didn’t need her to finish. She wasn’t holding a letter. She’d been bent over, fiddling with the stove, back turned to the letter on the table. “Sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to—”

Ginny snatched the letter off the table, held up her fist, and crumpled it. “Really funny,” Ginny spat. She shoved the letter in her jeans’ pocket. “It’s not a love letter, you know.” 

“Right.” Marzie was watching Ginny carefully, as if she thought Ginny might lash out suddenly, and it only made Ginny feel angrier. 

_I thought you were working on your anger_ , the mirror’s voice echoed. Ginny wished it’d shut up, so she spun on her heel and returned to the living room, doing a piss-poor job of hiding her annoyance, embarrassment, and swirling mess of whatever other emotions she didn’t really want to even think about. _Feel your emotions without judgement,_ her therapist would tell her.

“Everything all right?” Ron asked her gently. Concern was etched across his face, and guilt suddenly scratched at Ginny’s insides. 

“Fine,” Ginny lied. “It’s from Mum. Marzie was just being a bitch.” Ginny didn’t need to see Ron flinch to know it was cruel and unfair. She shouldn’t have said it, but it was too late now. 

“Oh.” He didn’t believe her. 

“Hey, sorry,” Marzie said, stepping into the doorway, “I’ve actually just remembered my mother said she was going to try to floo tonight. Thanks for the invite though.” She caught Ginny’s eye briefly, apologetic.

“Tell your mum I said hi,” Ginny said awkwardly. Not that Ginny knew Marzie’s mum really. She’d briefly said hello once when she walked in on Marzie talking to her in the fireplace, but that’s it.

“I will. Have fun.” Marzie smiled as if she recognised Ginny’s terrible attempt at an apology and decided it was good enough. 

“Right. Let’s go.” Ginny nodded and took Ron’s arm to lead him to the door. She grabbed her muggle-safe coat off the rack, pulled it on, and buttoned it up over her shirt. Then she looked at Ron, cast a quick disillusionment charm to hide the obviously wizarding cloak, and dragged him out the door.

They walked in silence through the muggle streets. For once, it wasn’t raining, just cold and windy, so they took the long way along the harbour. Holyhead wasn’t particularly big, at least not compared to the vastness of London, so Ginny had learned to find her way around the muggle streets. Y Crafanc Werdd, the only magical pub in Holyhead, was hidden down an alley just off Williams Street in the muggle town centre. 

“Hiya, Ginny,” Mongrook said as they walked in. “Shame about last night.”

“Yeah,” Ginny said. She shuddered at the sudden memory of Vogel’s tongue in her mouth, heavy and uncoordinated with the taste of alcohol. A real shame about last night indeed.

“What happened last night?” Ron asked as they slipped into an empty table.

“Quidditch. We lost. It was pretty bad. Amaechi took a nasty bludger early, so I went in for her, but it was just a disaster. The Magpies slaughtered us.” Mongrook had definitely been offering her condolences for that, and not any of the poor, drunken choices Ginny had made last night at the Magpies’ estate. 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. How’s the shop?” 

They fell into an easy conversation about the mundane things in their lives. Ginny let Ron do most of the talking, really. He had started working at their brother George’s joke shop in September, and he was full of stories from it. Ginny had worked there last summer and hated it, but Ron seemed to be thriving there. 

Ron was midway through explaining one of the newest products he was helping George and their friend Lee Jordan develop when Rhianna slipped into the seat beside Ginny.

“Hey,” Rhianna said. She put her arm over Ginny’s shoulder and gave her a quick, sideways hug. 

“Astoria’s not coming?” Ron asked Rhianna. Ginny’s heart leapt and then crashed down into the pit of her stomach in the space of a second.

“What?” Rhianna said.

“You said you might bring someone.”

“Oh.” She pulled her lips into her mouth, and her face flushed. “I meant, er, someone else.” She shook her head and calmed her features. “Doesn’t matter. She’s busy, so it’s just me.”

“She?” Ginny asked. She forgot all about her own shitty love life for a moment and jumped on Rhianna’s flushing face. “Rhianna, do you have a secret girlfriend?” 

Rhianna rolled her eyes a little too dramatically. “No, but if I did, there would probably be a good reason it’s a secret. You know, like not outing my non-existent girlfriend against her will.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Ginny crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. Rhianna totally had a girlfriend. 

“I would have asked Astoria myself if I’d known,” Ron said. He sounded disappointed, which only irritated Ginny. He hadn’t even liked Astoria at all until a few months ago, and now he acted like they were _friends._

“She’s probably working in the hospital wing,” Rhianna said. “She doesn’t have time for something as banausic as eating.” 

“Oh no.” At first, Ginny thought Ron had somehow understood what Rhianna had said, but then she realised he was looking straight past them to the floo. Harry was walking toward them with a young woman Ginny didn’t recognise holding onto his arm. “I told him not to bring her,” Ron groaned quietly.

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry said brightly as he stepped up to the table. “All right?”

“Er, hi, Harry,” Ginny said uncertainly. She didn’t know what to make of his overly smart robes, slicked back hair, and freshly shaven face. They were at a dinky pub, not some high class restaurant.

“Have you met my girlfriend Jeanette yet?” Harry looked to the young woman on his arm. “Netty, this is Ron’s little sister, Ginny, and her friend Rhianna.” Ron’s little sister?

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you!” Jeanette gushed. Then she flung her arms around Rhianna and then Ginny, squeezing tight enough to stop Ginny breathing. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Ginny said dryly, relieved when Jeanette finally let go and let Ginny breathe.

“I hope you don’t mind the extra guest,” Harry said. “We had already made plans together when Ron asked me to come, so I thought why not just combine plans, right?” Harry grinned at Ginny.

“Of course.” Ginny caught Ron’s eye and was relieved to see that he had clearly not been consulted on the matter of Harry bringing his apparently new girlfriend out to meet his ex-girlfriend. “Please, sit.” She pointed to the empty seats and considered ordering herself several pints when Jeannette squeezed a chair in between Ginny and Rhianna. “Where’s Neville?” she asked Harry instead.

“Still up at the school.”

“What’s Neville doing up at Hogwarts on a Saturday?”

Harry shrugged and looked over at the bar. “I’m going to go get drinks for me and Netty. You lot want anything? What are you having, Ginny?”

“No need, mate,” Ron said. He reached over, grabbed a menu, and put it in front of Harry. “Just tap your wand to your order. This place is brilliant.” 

“Wow,” Jeanette said. She leaned over Ginny (who quickly scooted backward to dodge her) to grab a menu as well, and then she sat back down, looking at the menu like it was a sparkling pile of gold. She elbowed Ginny. “Show me.”

Ginny considered murdering Harry, but before she could settle on a spell, Rhianna pulled Jeanette’s attention away and showed her how the menus worked.

“Welsh people are so smart!” Jeanette said as soon as she’d ordered herself a drink. She put the menu back and looked straight at Ginny. Then, apropos of absolutely nothing, she announced, “You have such pretty eyes, Ginny.”

Rhianna choked and sprayed her butterbeer everywhere, and Ron burst into a fit of laughter. Ginny shot both of them dark looks that did nothing to silence their laughter.

“She does!” Jeanette grabbed Ginny’s chin and pointed her face at Harry. “Don’t you think she has pretty eyes, Harry?”

Ginny’s only consolation was that Harry turned bright red. Good. Let him be embarrassed. He’d brought this upon himself, dragging his arm candy girlfriend along unannounced and introducing Ginny as Ron’s _little sister_. 

“Yeah,” Harry said awkwardly. “I, er, guess she does. Nice and, er, brown.”

“Yeah, very brown,” Ron said, barely keeping it together.

Jeanette pulled Ginny’s face back toward her and smiled brightly at Ginny. “They’re a very nice brown, like honey.” She leaned in closer, but Ginny pulled her face away. There was only so much of this she could deal with. “Your eyeliner is really nice too.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said. She grabbed a menu to busy herself with, as if she didn’t already know the whole menu by heart. Anything to end this awkward tangent. 

“Is Hermione still in the office then?” Ron asked Harry. “What’s she even got to do on a Saturday?”

Ginny mouthed a silent thank you to him.

“House elves to free or something, probably,” Harry said.

“Don’t say it like it’s stupid,” Ron said. 

Harry lifted an eyebrow at Ron.

“Just because I don’t want to wear a badge that says _spew_ on it doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s got it right.”

“Oh, I heard about that spew thing!” Jeanette said. “House elves don’t want to be free though, do they? It’s very insulting, isn’t it?”

“No,” Ron, Rhianna, and Ginny said quickly together.

“That’s a bunch of wizard propaganda,” Ron said, sounding incredibly like Hermione.

“Most of the elves at Hogwarts are paid now,” Ginny said. 

“And they’re generally pretty happy about it,” Rhianna added. 

“There are elves at Hogwarts?” Jeanette said. 

“Homeschooled,” Harry said quickly. That explained why Ginny didn’t know her, despite the obviously English accent. “And yeah, they make all the food and keep the castle clean and all that.”

Thankfully, the awkward thread of conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Harry and Jeanette’s drinks: butterbeer for Harry and, much to Ginny’s surprise, firewhiskey for Jeanette. Rhianna took the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the controversial. With only a little prompting, Harry launched into a boring story about one of his patrols. Ginny was relieved for the opportunity to stop trying to engage actively in conversation, but her relief was short-lived.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier,” Jeanette said quietly to Ginny.

“Er, it’s fine.”

“Between homeschooling and growing up with a bunch of brothers, I just get really excited to talk to another girl sometimes.”

Something about the way she’d said it—or maybe just the twinkling in her eyes—made Ginny think excited wasn’t quite the word for what Jeanette was feeling. “You have brothers?” Ginny asked.

“Three of them. All homeschooled with four other boys.”

“I’ve got six brothers.”

“Wow,” she said slowly, eyes full of wonder and something else Ginny couldn’t quite name. “But you went to Hogwarts, right? You had a dorm with a bunch of other girls?”

“Er, yeah. It’s not as great as it sounds.” In no world did Ginny think sharing a dorm with anyone could ever sound great. “Not a whole lot of privacy.”

“I think it sounds brilliant. And you get to go to classes in a castle and fly outside and play quidditch and all that, right? I bet you played, didn’t you? You’re strong.” She put her hand on Ginny’s upper arm and giggled. 

Ginny glanced over at Harry and saw him looking at them, perplexed but still telling Ron and Rhianna his story. He smiled encouragingly when he saw Ginny looking at him. “Yeah, er, I play for the Harpies,” Ginny said.

“No way!” Jeanette shoved Ginny’s shoulder playfully. “You play for the _Harpies_? Did you hear they started a team at Hogwarts too?” 

Ginny’s face flushed. “Er, yeah, my friends started the Academy before the Harpies funded it.”

Jeanette’s eyes went wide. “Do you know Astoria Greengrass then? I bet you do! She’s in charge of it all, and _oh my god_ she’s just the coolest, don’t you think?”

 _Harry’s girlfriend is gay,_ Ginny thought suddenly.

“So cool and mysterious and smart and talented and—”

“Neville! Hermione!” Ginny said as she caught sight of them, deeply grateful for their timing. _Save me_ , she thought desperately. She jumped up to hug them both and say hellos.

“So I see you’ve met your replacement,” Hermione said quietly as she hugged Ginny. 

“I don’t think it’s going to work out for them,” Ginny said back.

Hermione laughed at that but let go and sat down. Ginny attempted to subtly orchestrate a rearrangement of the seating as they got seats for Neville and Hermione, but she somehow ended up against the wall with Jeanette beside her and her closest escape being Neville across from her. 

“Harry said you were at Hogwarts?” Ginny asked Neville before Jeanette could start fawning over Ginny again—or, worse, Astoria.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, “I lost track of time.”

“What were you doing at Hogwarts on a Saturday?”

“Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff played this morning, and then I was helping Sprout out in the greenhouses.”

The mention of quidditch woke up the guilt that liked to claw at Ginny’s insides, but she did her best to ignore it. “What, all this time?”

“Sprout’s retiring,” Harry said.

“She’s not retiring,” Neville said, but his cheeks turned slightly pink.

“She is,” Harry said. “Neville’s up there whenever he can get away, taking notes so he can take the post.” Harry clapped his shoulder and grinned. “They all leave me eventually.”

Neville just shook his head and looked at Ginny. “I saw Astoria. She and Harrison—”

“Oh my _god,_ ” Jeanette said. “You _do_ know her, Ginny!” She looked at Neville and grinned, eyes full of awe. “What’s she like? She seems so smart and serious in the papers, but I bet she’s super nice.”

“Er, she’s great,” Neville said uncertainly, as thrown as Ginny was by Jeanette’s obvious crush on Astoria. “She and Ginny are a lot closer.” Oh, yeah, _so_ close, Ginny thought bitterly. 

“What’s she like? She’s super cool, right?” Jeanette asked Ginny.

“Er, yeah, she’s great,” Ginny said. Was there an off switch for this girl? Ginny was suddenly nostalgic for the much less uncomfortable times where Jeanette was just fawning over Ginny, not Astoria.

Jeanette’s eyes sparkled conspiratorially and she elbowed Ginny gently. “Secret girls only stuff, huh?”

Ginny’s cruel mind supplied her with an all-too vivid highlight reel of her alone time with Astoria: Astoria’s soft gasp as Ginny pressed her lips into the soft skin at the base of her neck, Astoria’s hands on her hips, the floating feeling of dancing with Astoria—Ginny snapped herself back to reality, where she was sure the heat of her face had raised the temperature of the entire pub by several degrees. “No,” Ginny said. “Just, er, boring stuff.”

“I bet it’s not that boring.”

Then, as if to remind her why this was all so horribly awkward, Ginny watched Astoria fly through the air again in her mind, the ground making a deafening crunch as Astoria’s back collided with the dirt. And Ginny left her, as she always did every time that night replayed in her mind. “I need the toilet,” Ginny said. Then, before anyone could ask, she bolted.

Ginny locked the door behind her, silenced the room, and then grabbed onto the sink to steady herself as the wave of tears she’d been holding back burst forth. 

_Fuck off!_ Ginny had shouted.

The palms of her hands felt like fire, as if the surge of violent magic that had raced through her veins and out of her hands that night had left behind burning scars. She’d been an idiot to agree to this tonight. Ron was worried her busy quidditch schedule was keeping her from seeing her friends, so he’d insisted on inviting some others to join them for dinner.

 _I can’t,_ Astoria had said. _I’m sorry, Ginny._

Ginny screamed, trying to drown out Astoria’s voice in her head, but instead of drowning Astoria out, she just shattered the sink as a rush of anger surged through her and out of her fingers. Ginny looked at the mess she’d made, water spurting out into her face, and swore.

 _Hold still, Ginny,_ Astoria had told her a million times. _I can mend it._

But this was Ginny’s mess, and Astoria wasn’t here to fix it. Ginny had done plenty to make sure of that, and no amount of feeling bad for herself could change that. She hadn’t come here to break things. She’d come to calm herself down before she snapped. Deep breaths.

_It’s okay, Ginny._

Ginny shut her eyes tight and pushed Astoria’s voice out of her head. She dug into her jeans pockets in search of the checklist her therapist had helped her make. Instead of a list of ways to calm herself down though, she found the crumpled, unread letter from Astoria.

_My bed is so cold without you here._

“ _Incendio_ ,” Ginny said. She regretted it as soon as she did it, but it was too late. It wasn’t like Ginny had read the last several letters Astoria had written either, but she kept telling herself she’d get to them eventually, when she was ready. Something about watching her own name turn to ash shook Ginny to her core though. This was bad. She was doing horribly. It had been almost three months, and instead of moving on, Ginny just seemed to be backsliding further and further.

She needed to bring herself back to reality. She’d practiced this with her therapist. Ginny took a deep breath and tried to go through the steps her therapist had walked her through. 

Name five things she could see. Ginny looked around and counted: green tiles on the walls, the toilet bowl, wood-panel flooring, shattered debris of the sink, her own reflection in the mirror.

Four things she could touch. Smooth tiles, cold water spraying out of the broken sink, the rough denim of her jeans, the solid ground beneath her feet.

Three things she could hear. The splashing water, dull hum of the pub beyond the door, the sound her shoes made against the wood floor.

Two things she could smell. The unpleasant stench of the toilet, and what else? Ginny looked around for something else to smell and then looked down at herself. Fuck it. She pulled her shirt over her nose and breathed in a mix of fresh laundry and her own sweat. At least it was mostly clean.

One thing she could taste. Ginny caught some of the spraying water in her hands and drank it.

Ginny wasn’t convinced she was okay now, but she felt a little bit less like her entire life was spiralling out of control. She dug through her pockets again and found the checklist this time. Had she gotten enough sleep? No. Eaten? Not since last night. Water? She’d ordered tea, but she should probably get water. Taken her potions? She’d actually managed that this morning. Showered? She had given herself a half-hearted scouring charm when she finally got out of bed a few hours ago, but she could wash her face in the sink.

She slipped the checklist back in her pocket, did her best to put the sink back together, and turned on the faucet. The sink leaked in a couple spots where she hadn’t gotten the shattered porcelain back together properly. She patched the worst of them and made a mental note to buy Mongrook a new sink. Then she leaned forward and splashed water on her face. It was cold and sharp, but it made Ginny feel a bit more human, so she splashed it over the rest of her exposed skin too.

Then she dried herself off with a charm, vanished the ashes of Astoria’s letter, and took one more calming breath. The checklist would have asked her if she’d spent enough time with her loved ones, and the answer was no. She was distant with her team, and the only other person she saw with any regularity was Ron. 

As much as she hated the thought of subjecting the people she cared about to her terrible mood, her violent temper, and everything else she hated about herself, it was just dinner. She could hold herself together for a couple hours, and she missed them. She needed this, and they’d all come willingly. Just dinner.

Ginny fixed her eyeliner and smoothed her hair. Spend time with friends, drink water, eat food. It’d make her feel better, and it’d quiet the guilt and rage and panic clawing at her insides. She took one last calming breath and headed back to her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there may be an additional chapter before next Monday. Depends how quickly I can get that mess edited into something coherent. ^.^;
> 
> Also, yay, book title!


	3. Nutty Netty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mental health issues, alcohol references, bullying, ableist language, mention of anti-goblin prejudice, sexist language

When Ginny returned, it was to a slight but greatly appreciated change of seating: she wasn’t trapped between Jeanette and the wall anymore. Instead, she was at the other end of the table next to Rhianna and Ron. She mouthed a silent thank you to Rhianna (who had no doubt orchestrated the change while she was gone) and summoned a menu.

“Oh, what’s good here, Ginny?” Harry asked. He summoned himself a menu too and smiled at her expectantly. On second thought, maybe the seating change wasn’t an improvement, now that she was stuck right across from Harry.

“Er, probably any of the fish,” Ginny said. “It’s all fresh caught here.”

“Is that what you’re getting?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny’s stomach turned. Definitely not. 

“I’ve never had Welsh food.”

“It’s all the same mate,” Ron said. 

Ginny sighed and elbowed Rhianna, who was busy explaining how classes worked at Hogwarts to Jeanette. “Harry wants to order something Welsh,” Ginny said.

“Just get cawl,” Rhianna said. “Welsh soup.”

“Oh, er, okay,” Harry said. He looked back at Ginny. “Have you had that before? Is it good?”

Ginny thought Jeanette fawning over her might actually be less awkward than this. “It’s just soup, Harry,” she said.

Rhianna looked quickly between Harry and Ginny and then put her hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “She’s had it,” she said, “loves it, and thinks it’s sweet of you to show so much interest in what she wants.” She gave Ginny’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “She’s just got a pro quidditch player metabolism and is hungry enough to eat her own arm right now. Best not to ask her to do any thinking or talking until she’s got food in her stomach.”

Harry blushed. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

Rhianna held up her other arm in front of Ginny’s face. “Here, don’t eat your own arms. You’ll fall off your broom without them.”

“Thanks,” Ginny said dryly, though she was actually grateful for the diffusion. “I think I can manage.” She pushed Rhianna’s arm down and stared at the menu, trying her best to ignore the concerned look Harry was giving her. She hesitated, wishing in vain that her stomach might calm down, but then she tapped her wand to the cawl cennin.

Eating, it turned out, did plenty to clear the dark cloud weighing over Ginny. She’d been so deep in the haze of her own mind that she actually blinked several times when Hermione laughed and the sound rang clearly in Ginny’s ears instead of coming to her as if through a twisted maze. 

“Get it, Ginny?” Ron laughed, hitting her shoulder gently with the back of his hand.

She did not, in fact, get it, as she had only half heard his story, but a brief laugh of relief escaped her anyway. The action seemed to loosen some of the tension in her chest, and it felt so good that she just laughed more. It just sort of snowballed from there, and suddenly Ginny couldn’t stop laughing, even though she wasn’t really sure why or how she was laughing in the first place.

Ron started laughing again, and then it spread to Harry as if it were a highly contagious infection. Hermione looked at them, shook her head, and then started laughing too. 

“What is it? What’s funny?” Jeanette asked. 

Rhianna took one look at Ginny and started laughing. Neville and Jeanette only lasted a moment longer, and then the whole table was laughing together. By the time they all recovered, Ginny had tears in the corner of her eyes and had resorted to holding onto Rhianna’s shoulder to steady herself and breathe.

When she finally caught her breath, Ginny looked at Hermione and said, “You’re friends!” She looked at Ron and grinned. “She laughed at your stupid story!” It must have been the relief of the realisation that had sent Ginny and, by extension, the whole table into a fit of contagious laughter. 

“It wasn’t stupid,” Hermione protested. But her face flushed slightly, and Ginny knew she’d understood the real point: Hermione had finally forgiven Ron. Ginny could have cried, but she was glad to be laughing instead. Ron moping around without Hermione had been awful to watch.

\--

“Wealsey!” Someone clapped Ginny on the shoulder. She turned and saw Amaechi grinning down at her, one arm still in a sling from her injury last night. There was a man with her who Ginny vaguely remembered meeting once in September. Her brother? Cousin? “I hear you had a good night last night.” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Er, yeah,” Ginny said, face quickly reddening. She tried to look anywhere but at anyone’s eyes, as if they might see directly into her mind if she looked at them.

“He’s a cutie.” Amaechi winked.

Ginny, desperate for a change of subject, looked around the table. “Er, this is my brother Ron, and, er—”

“Yeah, we met at your party,” Amaechi said, nodding to the table as a whole. She looked at Rhianna and smiled. “Hiya, Hughes. This is my cousin Kambili.” She looked at him. “You remember Weasley, right? And this is Hughes, Gwenog’s friend.” _Gwenog’s friend._

“Just Kam is fine,” he said.

“Anyway, I’ll see you in the morning, Weasley. Try not to party too hard tonight.” She laughed again and pat Ginny’s back.

“I’ll be fine as long as Mongrook hasn’t been spiking my tea,” Ginny said.

“We’re trusting her with your sobriety? Good luck.”

“That’s a nasty stereotype,” Hermione said. “Goblins are just as trustworthy as—”

“It’s Mongrook’s joke,” Ginny said quickly, before Hermione could get going. “Since we aren’t supposed to drink most of the time, she likes to joke that she’ll spike our drinks so we have plausible deniability if we get caught.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Mongrook, Granger,” Amaechi said. “She’s a Harpy, and Harpies are family. Anyone who gives her crap has the whole team to answer to. We’ve got each other’s backs.” She looked at Ginny and smiled. “And on that note, enjoy your dinner.”

She and Kamili waved, and then they left to grab a table for themselves.

Ginny turned to Rhianna. “‘Gwenog’s friend?’” she said, perhaps a bit more offended than she should have been. “We’ve been friends for like ten years!”

But before Rhianna could respond, Ron said, “Now hang on, Ginny. Who’s this bloke Amaechi’s on about?” 

Ginny groaned and turned to him with all the irritation she could muster. “No one. She’s just trying to wind me up.” She turned back to Rhianna. “Ten years!”

“She probably just said it because Gwenog’s the one who introduced us,” Rhianna said. 

“Yeah, because you and _Gwenie_ are just the best of friends, aren’t you?”

Rhianna frowned. “Are you upset that I’m friends with Gwenog?”

“I’m not upset.”

“She thinks you’re brilliant, you know.”

“I said I’m not upset.”

“She does. She thinks you’re incredibly smart and brave and hard-working and—”

“What part of ‘I’m not upset’ is hard for you to understand?” Ginny snapped. 

Rhianna’s face fell, but she didn’t say anything. She just sighed and looked at Ginny sadly.

“Sorry,” Ginny muttered.

“It’s okay.”

Ginny just shook her head and turned to listen to whatever it was Ron, Harry, and Hermione were talking about. She didn’t want to deal with Rhianna. Rhianna was always so bloody patient and understanding. Of course everyone liked her. It was annoying.

After dinner, Harry suggested they all see Ginny’s flat. When she failed to come up with a good enough excuse to say no, Ginny resigned herself to letting her friends finally see her flat. The home tour was, thankfully, short and sweet: living room, kitchen, and that’s it. But as Ginny waved everyone back to the living room, Harry caught her arm and hung back. 

“Can I talk to you?” Harry asked quietly. 

Ginny felt apprehensive, but she shrugged and said, “Sure, what’s up?”

“It’s good to see you, Ginny.”

“Good to see you too.” She resisted the urge to tell him to get to the point already. 

“Listen, er, this is kind of awkward to ask…”

“Just ask, Harry.”

“Well, er, are you upset?”

“What?” _Nope, just hate everyone and everything,_ Ginny thought irritably. 

“About me dating someone else.” His face flushed. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry.”

“It’s just that you’ve seemed like you, er, really don’t like Netty.”

“I really don’t care, Harry.”

“She was really looking forward to meeting you, Ginny. She’s never had other girls her age—”

“She was looking forward to meeting your ex-girlfriend? Or did that just slip your mind?”

“I didn’t want to make things weird. I thought you two could be friends.”

“A shame you didn’t think to invite Cho too. Netty was really looking forward to meeting all your exes.”

“Fucking hell, Ginny. I’m trying to be friends like you wanted.”

“No, clearly, I’m just your best friend’s annoying little sister.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You could have just said ‘friend’ then. I’m sure even your ditzy, idiot girlfriend could have figured out Ron and I are related.” 

“Don’t call her that.”

“Sorry, airhead. Is that better?”

“I’m glad Luna isn’t here to hear you calling people cruel names like some awful school bully.”

Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but her throat was suddenly too dry to get anything out. _Loony Lovegood._ Ginny had gotten into more than a few fights with people who’d dared use the awful nickname in front of Ginny.

“Whatever, Ginny,” Harry said. “I just thought you’d be nicer to her, but apparently you’re not the person I thought you were.” With that, Harry pushed past Ginny and went back into the living room. 

Ginny blinked back the tears that started to form in her eyes. It was stupid. Harry was stupid. He’d only brought Jeanette in some stupid ploy to make Ginny jealous. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d set Ginny up to be cruel, and she was just going along with what Harry really wanted. Ginny wasn’t going to cry over it. 

She pulled herself together and walked back into the living room. 

“Do you have your own room?” Jeanette asked Ginny as soon as she’d stepped in. “Can we see it?” 

“Er, it’s kind of a mess right now,” Ginny said. Grudgingly, she considered that maybe she was being unfair to Jeanette. It wasn’t Jeanette’s fault that Harry was just using her to try to get a rise out of Ginny.

Jeanette looked at the others and then slipped over to Ginny’s side. “Is it because you don’t want boys in your room?” Jeanette whispered. 

“What? No, it’s just messy.” 

“I can help you clean it. I bet it’s not that bad.”

Ginny thought she’d like nothing less than to go spend some one-on-one time with Jeanette, but it was also the perfect opportunity to prove Harry wrong. “Okay,” she said.

Jeanette’s face lit up like Ginny had just told her she’d won an all-expenses-paid vacation. “Where is it?”

Ginny caught Harry’s eye and made a show of slipping her hand into Jeanette’s. Then she led her down the hall to Ginny’s bedroom. “It’s a disaster, sorry,” Ginny said. 

Jeanette raced in like a Third Year making their first trip into Zonko’s Joke Shop in Hogsmeade. “These are the men on your shirt!” Jeanette said, pointing to a poster of The Weird Sisters. She pulled Ginny’s hand, stepped over the landmines of dirty clothes, and looked between Ginny’s shirt and the poster. “They’re a band, right?” Then she bent down slightly, peering at Ginny’s shirt. 

Ginny jumped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah,” she said quickly. 

“Oh.” Jeanette let out a defeated sigh. “You don’t like me. I should go.” She stepped toward the door, but Ginny, on impulse, grabbed her arm. 

“Wait. Sorry. I’m just—”

“It’s okay, Ginny. I know I’m weird.” 

“I like weird.” Luna, Ginny’s best friend, was weird, after all. Ginny could be more than okay with weird.

Jeanette just shook her head. “You don’t have to pretend. I can tell you don’t like me. I keep making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” 

“I’m going to go now.”

This time, Ginny caught her around the waist and pulled her much closer than Ginny meant to. Her face burned. “Er, sorry,” Ginny said as she pulled her hands away. “I’m just, er, awkward with everyone. It’s not you.”

Jeanette looked at the ground between their feet. “I don’t know how to make friends with anyone. With girls, I mean. I don’t think I’m like normal girls. I’d never even met a girl our age until I met Hermione, but she doesn’t like me at all. Harry said you’d like me, but you don’t either. Your friend Rhianna spent the whole night trying to keep me busy so I wouldn’t bother you. She could tell you didn’t like me.”

Ginny tried to argue, but the argument died in her throat. Denying what Jeanette so obviously knew wouldn’t change the fact that Harry and Jeanette were both right: Ginny had hated her immediately. She’d been in a poor mood and made a snap judgement. 

“It’s okay that you don’t like me,” Jeanette said. “None of the others in our homeschool group really liked me much either. I’ve always been Nutty Netty.”

“They called you that?” Ginny thought of Luna and all the awful names other kids had called her, and she suddenly wished she could hex everyone who’d said the same sorts of things about Jeanette too.

“Yeah, everyone does. My family too.”

“Then they’re a bunch of twats, and they can all go to hell.” 

Jeanette’s eyes went wide. “That’s not nice.”

“Yeah, well, calling people names isn’t nice either, so fuck them.”

“It’s not their fault. I’m just… weird. I make people uncomfortable. I wish I knew how to make friends, but it’s so hard, and it’s even harder with girls, you know? Boys are easy enough. If you just smile and tell boys they’re great, they usually like you, even if they think you’re weird and annoying. But girls are so much harder. I don’t know what to do or say, and I just get all flustered when I try. I always feel like I’m doing everything wrong, and they’re going to notice that I’m not normal.” Then she just shook her head. “Sorry, this is stupid. I don’t know why I’m even telling you. It’s easy for you. You’ve got all these friends—back at school and now with quidditch, too.”

Ginny sat down on her bed. “I’m not friends with the rest of the team,” she said quietly. She hadn’t really admitted it to anyone, but she somehow felt like Jeanette would understand. “I’m… not really a good friend. I wish I was better, but I’m just sort of a bitch to everyone.”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch. You’ve been nice to me even though I’m dating your ex-boyfriend.”

Ginny whipped her head up. “What? You knew?” 

“I read the papers, Ginny. I just didn’t want you to think I was a creep for knowing stuff about you already.” Jeanette’s shoulders fell. “I know he still fancies you.” She looked away. “It’s okay. I’ve never dated anyone before, so I think it’s less scary knowing he’s in love with someone else.”

“He’s all yours,” Ginny said firmly. “I’m not getting back with him. I don’t want to. I really just want to go back to being friends with him.”

Jeanette looked back at Ginny again and smiled. “You’re sweet, Ginny.”

Ginny felt her cheeks burn, and she stuttered out a mess of sounds. Something about the way Jeanette had said it felt a little too personal, a little too soft, a little too sweet. 

“Sorry,” Jeanette said. She ran a hand through her hair and looked away, face turning pink to match Ginny’s. “I, er, don’t know how to do this.” 

_This._ Again, something about the way she’d said it felt far more intense than it should have. But instead of flinching away, Ginny stood back up and stepped closer. “It’s okay,” Ginny said. Some distant part of her mind seemed to be screaming at her suddenly, but Ginny was tired of screaming and fighting all of the time, so she ignored it. “I never know what the fuck I’m doing, if I’m honest.”

Jeanette’s eyes sparkled as they looked at each other. “I can see why he likes you so much.” 

A current of energy raced through Ginny’s veins and tugged at her stomach. Irrationality beckoned her, a familiar old friend calling out to her. She had some vague sense that there was a reason she had been trying not to let her gut lead her, but it felt fuzzy. Jeanette was here and solid. Ginny could reach out and touch her. Not just could, but did. Without consciously deciding to do it, Ginny had her hands on Jeanette.

“I like you,” Ginny said quietly. She hadn’t felt this alive in months. “I want to…” But she let her words trail off as Jeanette’s eyes closed. Ginny leaned in toward her lips and closed her eyes too.

Dark brown eyes full of hurt suddenly filled Ginny’s vision.

Ginny tensed, and instead of kissing Jeanette, Ginny jerked her own head down and pressed her forehead into Jeanette’s collarbone. Ginny’s skin felt like ice now, and her throat burned suddenly. She gripped Jeanette tightly as she tried to fight back the inevitable, the racing current that was going to rip Ginny beneath the surface and drown her once again.

They seemed to be frozen in time, unmoving, suspended in the moment and Ginny’s endless stream of bad decisions. The current would pull them both down any moment now, but until then, Ginny breathed in her skin like driftwood barely keeping her afloat. 

Ginny heard the door open, but she didn’t move. Let her friends know what a twat she was. She’d almost kissed Harry’s girlfriend, and she’d only stopped because of Astoria. 

“Is, er, everything okay?”

Ginny whipped her head up and looked at Rhianna, concern all over her face. “We were just…” Ginny said. She dropped her hands from Jeanette and stepped back. “We’re fine.”

Rhianna looked Ginny in the eye for a moment, and it was obvious that she knew exactly what had happened. Or almost happened, at least. “Well, Harry wants to head out soon. I told him I’d let Jeanette know so you could, er, wrap up.” 

“Oh, okay,” Jeanette said. “Yeah.” Then, without even looking at Ginny, she slipped past Rhianna and left the room.

“I know you two have had your problems,” Rhianna said quietly, “and he’s a fool if he doesn’t realise his girlfriend is gayer than a pride parade, but—”

“I know,” Ginny said. She wanted to scream. “Nothing happened, okay?”

“Harry—”

“I know!” The light flickered. Ginny sighed and sank down into her bed, face in her hands. “I know.”

Rhianna sat down next to Ginny and put her arm around her. “It’s okay, Ginny.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay, it’s not really okay, but it’s understandable.” Rhianna squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. “If you want to talk about—”

“I’m just tired,” Ginny snapped. “I was out late last night, and I had a nasty hangover all day and didn’t have ingredients to brew a hangover cure. I’m _f_ _ine_.”

Rhianna let out a sigh that sounded a lot like resignation. “Hogwarts lets out in three weeks.”

Ginny’s stomach fluttered, and even her perpetual bad mood couldn’t seem to crush the tiny flicker of hope she felt. “So?” 

“So make time to come over. Astoria misses you.”

“Er, yeah.” Ginny tried to remind the hopeful fluttering in her stomach that Astoria shouldn’t miss Ginny, but it was no use. Rhianna knew Astoria better than anyone, and if Rhianna said Astoria missed her, then she did. It was selfish, but her fluttering stomach didn’t care: Astoria didn’t hate her.

“Get some rest and take care of yourself for me, will you?”

“I told you, I’m just—”

“—tired and busy with quidditch, I know. Bit hard to convince me when I happen to be good friends with your captain, Ginny. You’re not busy; you’re turtling.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Taking that as a compliment.” Rhianna stood up. “Do you want me to send everyone home so you can actually get some sleep?”

Ginny shook her head and stood up too. “I’m fine. I’ll say goodnight.” She waved Rhianna out the door and followed her out to the living room, where Harry and Jeanette were hovering by the floo on their way out.

“Oh, there you are,” Harry said, smiling. “We’re going to head off, Ginny. I’ve got to get Jeanette back home before—”

“Yeah,” Ginny said. She wanted to punch him. It would be kinder than what she’d actually done. “Thanks for coming by, Harry.” She braced herself and then looked at Jeanette. Or, more accurately, at her forehead, carefully avoiding actual eye contact. “It was good to meet you, Jeanette.”

Jeanette, in all her idiocy, crossed the room suddenly and hugged Ginny. “I’m really glad I met you, Ginny,” she said softly. Then she let go and returned to Harry’s side. 

Ginny shuddered, and the two of them said quick goodbyes to the room. A minute later, they both vanished in the flames. Rhianna announced that she, too, was tired with some very obvious looks at the others, and soon enough, Ginny was alone, staring at the floo as her emotions swirled inside her.

Astoria missed her. Even as guilt and shame seemed to seep from her every pore, Ginny was powerless to fight the foolish hope that that one simple fact gave her. _Astoria missed her._ Ginny was never going to be able to write a letter, but maybe it would be easier in person, maybe her apologies wouldn’t feel so useless and pathetic if she could just deliver them in person. Only three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up Monday, as per the usual schedule. Enjoy the rare two-chapters-in-a-week bonus!


	4. Friendsmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mention of canon character death

> Monday, 27 December 1999. The Owens’ House. Evening.

“Ginny!” several people cheered as Ginny stepped out of the fireplace. She was immediately swarmed with hugs from her friends, knocking the teetering stack of gifts out of her arms. 

“Here, I’ve got them,” Rhianna said. She flicked her wand and sent the gifts Ginny brought off to sit in the pile under the tree. Then, once Alexis had let go of Ginny, she wrapped her arms around Ginny and squeezed. “Happy Christmas, Ginny. Glad you could make it.”

“Happy Christmas, Rhianna,” Ginny said. She squeezed back, but her eyes were busy scanning the room. She hadn’t worked up the courage to come by since Hogwarts let out, and she didn’t know what to expect with Astoria. 

“Ginny, do you like my dress?” Dennis said. 

“It’s cute, Dennis,” Ginny said without really registering it. She didn’t see Astoria. Maybe she was in her room. What if she was there because she didn’t want to see Ginny? 

“Iris.”

“What?” Ginny would just have to wait until Astoria decided to come downstairs. Cornering her in her room would be too much. 

“Her name’s Iris, Ginny,” Rhianna said.

“What? Who’s Iris?” Ginny forced away her worries about Astoria and looked at Rhianna properly, feeling like she’d missed several key bits of information. 

“I am,” Dennis said. 

Ginny looked quickly between Rhianna and Dennis—er, Iris? Her brain felt sluggish, like she’d been pulled suddenly from a deep sleep, but she slowly registered that neither of her friends seemed to be telling a joke. “Iris… Creevey?” Ginny asked. 

“Yeah, my dad came up with it,” Iris said. “It’s a witch name, like the goddess Iris, but it doesn’t sound too weird for muggles either. Anyway, seriously, what do you think of my dress?” She twirled around, and the dress rippled outward. It was green with twinkling lights all up and down. Ginny didn’t know how she could have missed it before. 

“You look like a Christmas tree,” Ginny said.

Iris burst into a fit of giggles. “I know! Astoria helped me get it to light up.” Then her eyes went wide with the tell-tale sign of one of Iris’ sudden bursts of inspiration. “Oh my god, we should put the gifts under me!” Then, without missing a beat, Iris leapt to the tree and started piling presents underneath her, spinning around as she did to keep the dress flaring out like a real Christmas tree.

Ginny watched her for a moment, laughing and spinning amongst the presents. She imagined Iris’ brother Colin grabbing the star off the real tree to put on her head and then snapping several photos to capture the moment. Colin had always been so proud of everything Iris ever did, no matter how small. Ginny wondered only briefly how he’d feel now, but of course he’d think it’s brilliant. Colin would love Iris and talk about her as if she truly were a goddess. 

But thinking of Colin made Ginny’s stomach ache with loneliness and guilt, so she pushed away thoughts of him. It was Christmas, and she wasn’t going to let herself bring down her friends with her sulking. 

So Ginny sat down on the sofa beside Alexis and asked, “How was your Hanukkah? It’s over by now, right?”

“Well, the oil lasted all eight days again.” Alexis laughed. “It was at the beginning of the month this year, and with taking N.E.W.T. level classes now, I decided to just stay at school. My parents sent plenty of sufganiyot though, and we put up a bunch of lights in the dorm.” She shrugged. “Low key but good. Nice jumper, by the way. Are you a Harpies supporter or something?”

Ginny looked down at herself and laughed. “I think my mum was worried I’d forget who I play for.” The jumper was green with a yellow pair of wings across the chest. Mum wasn’t very artistic, but it was a lot better than the dragon she’d tried to do on Charlie’s jumper his first Christmas after moving to Romania. 

“She thinks you’ve got your name down then?”

“It only took eighteen years, but I think I’ve got it now. It definitely starts with a G at least. Maybe. I think.” Ginny looked down at her jumper again and pretended to study it. “Or is it an M?”

“Did you steal that entire joke from your brother?” 

The two of them laughed, and the conversation quickly wandered to the only thing Ginny could easily talk about: quidditch. They were joined by a couple other friends, all of whom were eager to hear what various famous quidditch players were like in person and what life was like for a professional quidditch player. Ginny did her best to answer their questions and to ignore the dull ache in her stomach reminding her that this was the sort of thing she and Astoria should have been talking about over the past four months. 

When they grew bored of quidditch, Ahmad pulled out some sort of muggle game Ginny vaguely remembered playing last year. The basic idea was that you had to get your team to say a word on your card without you saying the word or any of the other banned terms on the card. Ginny wasn’t particularly good at the game, but it was loud and chaotic, with everyone screaming out their guesses, so it was at least fun. 

But as her friends laughed and screamed, Ginny couldn’t help her mind wandering upstairs. Astoria still hadn’t come down, and Ginny couldn’t shake the feeling that it was because Astoria was avoiding her. Astoria deserved to be here, laughing with her friends, far more than Ginny did, so Ginny resigned herself to confronting Astoria. She’d just say hi, and if Astoria really didn't want to see her, Ginny would leave the party so Astoria could spend time with her friends. 

But just as Ginny was about to get up from the sofa, the fireplace roared to life with a new arrival. 

“Ooh, a party!” Phil said as he stepped out of the flames, looking around the room excitedly. “Are you all magic then? Excellent!” The others were far too busy shouting out guesses to even notice him. 

“What on earth are you doing here, Phil?” Rhianna asked, sounding exasperated. She got up from the floor and pulled him aside, over by Ginny. Phil was Rhianna’s cousin, Astoria’s ex-boyfriend, and, perhaps most notably, a muggle. A muggle who had just casually travelled by floo.

“I need to borrow your owl,” he told Rhianna.

“You’ve come through the floo to borrow an owl? That’s for _emergencies_ only!”

“It’s faster than the bus.”

“That is not a good reason!”

“Haven’t you heard? The ice caps are melting from all our polluting. I’m saving the planet.”

Rhianna put her face in her hands and groaned. “Fine, okay, whatever, but why on earth do you need my owl?”

He pulled a letter out of his pocket and waved it. “Tori’s owl took off before I had a chance to write back.” 

“You are not sending my owl all the way to Italy just to give Astoria some dumb letter. Do you know how far that is?” Italy? Astoria was in Italy? Ginny was too blindsided by the information to even react. 

“It’s an owl. It can fly.”

“You’ve got legs. Maybe you can walk to Italy.”

“Wait, can I floo there?”

“Of course you cannot floo there, Phil. The Ministry would lose their heads if they knew you could floo at all.”

“But you can take the floo all the way to Italy?”

“No, you cannot!” Rhianna groaned again. “And even if you could, I highly doubt Astoria wants to see you.”

“Of course she wants to see me. We’re friends.”

“Whatever. Just give it to Iris then. She can give it to Astoria with the rest of her gifts when they’re back at school.”

“Iris?” 

Rhianna pointed to her. “Iris.” The she added warningly, “If you call her anything else—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cool. So is this a magic thing, or is she—?”

“She’s just a girl. She’s transgender.”

“Oh, cool, makes sense. Iris hates me though, so let me borrow your owl.”

“Not happening. Iris!”

Iris turned and bounded over, giving Phil a suspicious glance. “What’s going on?” she asked Rhianna.

“Phil has a letter for Astoria,” Rhianna said. “You’ll give it to her at school, won’t you?”

Iris looked Phil up and down. Then she held out her hand. “Fine, but only if I can read it. I’m not delivering any gross letters. She’s got a boyfriend, you know.”

“Definitely nothing like that, but you can’t read it,” Phil said. He took the letter back out of his pocket. “She told me not to tell anyone.”

Iris snatched the letter out of his hand. “She doesn’t keep secrets from me.” Then, before Phil could protest, she tore open the envelope and took out his letter. Phil reached for it, but Iris dodged easily, reading quickly. Her face grew more and more serious as she read, and Phil gave up trying to stop her.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Phil said. “Astoria would kill me.”

Iris finished reading, folded up the letter, and put it down the front of her dress. “Gross, Phil.”

“What? There’s nothing gross—”

“Your taste in music is awful. I’m not giving her this. Everything you’ve recommended is rubbish.”

Phil looked baffled. “What?”

“And that New Radicals song? It’s ‘music in you,’ not ‘magic.’”

“I don’t listen to—” 

“You are an idiot.”

Phil frowned, and then something resembling understanding suddenly dawned on his face. “Right. Whatever. Just give it to her, okay? It’s important. She asked me to, er, tell her my favourite songs.”

Iris sighed. “Fine, I’ll deliver your useless letter, but you owe me, Philip Owens, and I’m not going to forget that.” Iris turned on her heel and threw herself back into the game.

“It’s not gross,” Phil told Rhianna. “We’re not—”

“I don’t want to know, Phil,” Rhianna said. Then, without another word, she turned and left the room. 

Phil shrugged and sat down next to Ginny. “How’s my best bud Ginny?” he said.

“Er, hi, Phil,” Ginny said. Best bud? The closest they’d had to a real conversation was last summer, when Ginny had been drunk and stuck in a cab with him. They’d barely spoken the whole ride, other than Phil blurting out random bits of self-pity that Ginny certainly had no patience for.

“It wasn’t anything gross, you know. We’re friends now.”

“What?”

“The letter. Iris was just trying to wind me up.”

“Good to know.”

“I bet you already know what it was actually about.” He winked. “I know you’re super close.”

Ginny snorted. “Oh, yeah, of course. I know all about the big secret.”

“It’s pretty cool.” Then he sighed and stretched out his arms over the back of the sofa, one arm directly behind Ginny. “Anyway—”

“Seriously?” Ginny said. She leaned away from his arm and arched an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Then his face suddenly turned pink, and he jerked his arm away, curling away from her. “Oh, god, no. I mean, no offence, but—”

“None taken.” Ginny’s had watched him kissing Astoria last summer, and she couldn’t imagine a grosser thought. Except maybe the thought that some other bloke was kissing Astoria now. Ginny fought back a shudder. 

Phil relaxed slightly but thankfully didn’t put his arm back. “Right. Give me some intel, Ginny. This Harrison bloke—do we like him? Do we hate him? What’s his deal?” 

“Harrison?” Ginny couldn’t imagine why Phil would want to know about Harrison. He was a sweet, somewhat shy kid who played seeker for Slytherin. He and Astoria were good friends, but Ginny didn’t know him all that well. 

“Yeah, that’s who she’s dating, right? I overheard Aunt Delyth and Rhianna mention him at Christmas. Tori hasn’t told me anything.”

Astoria was dating Harrison? Her memory of Phil kissing Astoria was suddenly replaced by Harrison kissing her. It was jarring and made no sense, so Ginny’s mind tried something new: Harrison and Astoria holding hands and smiling at each other. Somehow, the thought was so much worse. Harrison was nothing like Phil. He was sweet, and Astoria actually liked him. 

“C’mon, Ginny,” Phil said. “I just wanna know if he’s good for her. Big cousin duty.”

“You’re not her cousin,” Ginny said. 

“Not by blood, but she’s basically family.”

“In my family, we don’t usually shove our tongue down our cousins’ throats.”

Phil turned bright red. “Well, she wasn’t family then! Things change! I definitely don’t want to do that now. It’d be gross.”

“Why do you care who she’s dating then?”

“I’m just trying to look out for her. She’s gone for total pricks before, you know.”

“Harrison’s fine,” Ginny said. He was surely talking about himself, but she still felt like he meant her.

“Fine?” Phil said. “Just fine? Something’s wrong with him, isn’t it?”

“He’s a lot better than you.” _And me,_ Ginny didn’t add. Then, desperate for anything else to think about, she got up and threw herself back into the game her friends were playing. 

By the time Ginny landed in her own floo, it was well past midnight. She stumbled sleepily to her room and collapsed on her bed. She was exhausted. Maybe she’d actually sleep through the entire night tonight. Maybe she’d just fall asleep right here, still in her clothes, on top of her duvet. Getting ready for bed was so much work. Then again, there was a hard, painful lump in her pocket that was digging into her hip.

Ginny groaned, rolled over, and dug her hand into her pocket. She pulled out a small box and held it up to her nose, squinting at it in the darkness as she tried to remember why she had a box in her pocket. Then, suddenly, it hit her: Astoria’s gift. She’d slipped into her pocket while they were doing gifts because she was worried she wouldn’t be able to keep herself together and in the present.

Ginny let her hand fall and stared up into the darkness. She was awake now. She was also home, and there was no one around to worry about her if she couldn’t keep herself together. Marzie was home, but Ginny would just put up the usual privacy charms so she wouldn’t hear anything. It was just a little box anyway. How bad could it possibly be? 

With a couple quick waves of her wand, Ginny was soon sitting upright in bed, privacy charms up and lights on. She stared at the box. It was wrapped in plain paper and just said _To Ginny, Love Astoria_ on the outside in Astoria’s all too familiar cursive. There were letters from Astoria buried all over her room with the same neat cursive. Ginny was never going to read them, and if she didn’t open this now, she’d never have the courage to open it either.

So she tore the paper off and tossed it on the floor. Inside was a small, wooden box, stained a dark grey with the letters _GMW_ carved on top. Ginny traced her initials slowly with one finger. She’d know that G anywhere: Astoria had carved it herself. For a moment, Ginny considered not opening the box. She’d taken off the paper, so she had technically opened Astoria’s gift, hadn’t she? Wasn’t that enough?

But she thought of all the unopened letters scattered around her room and the ways they tugged at her conscience and kept her up at night. She had to face Astoria, and, despite her exhaustion, she was actually in a good mood for once. It was the best chance she had. 

Ginny took a deep breath and opened the box. She didn’t know what she had been expecting to find, but it certainly hadn’t been a ring. Curiosity pulled her fingers to it, and she slipped the silver band onto her finger. Then she noticed the faintly glowing words written on the inside of the lid: _three turns._ Ginny looked back at the ring and realised it was actually made of two bands, one of which could rotate easily. She spun the band three times and gasped as a soft, warm feeling flooded through her fingers, up her arm, and filled her chest. 

“I’ve enchanted this ring with patronus magic,” Astoria’s voice rang out, as real and clear as if she were standing right in front of Ginny. It was her patronus speaking from the ring. “All you have to do is spin the rotating band three times, and it’ll release some of the magic into your skin to help soothe you whenever you need it. The magic will weaken over time, but you can strengthen it with your own patronus. Take care of yourself, Ginny.”

Then, just as suddenly, Astoria’s voice was gone. But it had been real, and the warm feeling in Ginny’s body was real too. _Take care of yourself, Ginny._ For a moment, Ginny thought she might cry, but the soft embrace of Astoria’s patronus mixed with Ginny’s exhaustion tugged her back down against her bed. She needed sleep. Or rather, sleep was going to overtake her whether she liked it or not, so she needed to get in bed before she ended up on the floor.

Groggily, Ginny slipped under the duvet and tried to get her clothes off before sleep overtook her. She got her jeans mostly off and her bra at least unhooked before sinking into a deep, peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all able to connect with those you love over the holidays this year, and I hope you've enjoyed having a slightly less "Ginny is an emotional disaster" chapter this week. (It was intentional, hence two chapters last week.) Happy holidays, and see you next week! <3


	5. The Lighthouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mental health crisis, violent outburst, nervous breakdown, mention of (past) suicide ideation, internalised homophobia, Riddle’s diary, depression, hurt animal

Monday, 3 Jan 2000. Ginny’s room. Late afternoon.

Ginny had been staring at the envelope for at least an hour, fidgeting restlessly with the silver ring Astoria had given her. She’d come home from practice to find a fresh letter from Astoria on her pillow, and she told herself she could open this one. Except she couldn’t. She’d just stared at it, trying to work up the courage.

She wasn’t even sure what she was afraid of. She had been so sure she was afraid Astoria hated her, but as she fidgeted with the ring Astoria had given her, she realised it was an absurd thought. By their friends’ accounts, Astoria barely even stayed put for meal times. She was Head Girl, Slytherin Captain, president of the Herbology Society, in charge of the Academy, juggling several N.E.W.T.s, and in detention every other week thanks to her constant conflicts with Slughorn. Astoria had no free time, but she’d been writing unanswered letters to Ginny almost every week anyway. The evidence that Astoria, despite plenty of good reason, didn’t hate her was buried in every corner of Ginny’s room.

Ginny had never truly been afraid that Astoria hated her. She was afraid that Astoria _should_ hate her. Astoria was better at hiding it, but Ginny knew the castle had to be just as full of dark, awful memories for Astoria as it had been for Ginny. And the night before Astoria had left for Hogwarts to face another year of that, when Astoria had needed Ginny’s support, Ginny had just lashed out at her instead. 

Ginny couldn’t read Astoria’s letters because she couldn’t bear to know what she’d left Astoria to face alone. As long as she never read Astoria’s letters, she could lie to herself and say that Astoria was better off without her now. She didn’t dare open any for fear of what they might contain: admissions that Ginny had hurt her, confessions of her loneliness, pleas for Ginny to write back. 

Ginny had ignored Astoria for four months, and Astoria kept writing. Other than their brief, shallow conversation in the Gryffindor fire, the last thing Ginny had said to Astoria was that she never wanted to see her again. The last thing Ginny had done was throw Astoria to the dirt. And still somehow, Astoria had seen past Ginny’s violent temper to the terror that always lurked just beneath Ginny’s surface, and she’d given Ginny the softest, kindest parts of herself in a patronus-filled ring.

Astoria deserved better. Astoria deserved every ounce of courage Ginny could summon. 

“ _Diffindo_ ,” Ginny said at last, slicing the envelope open. She pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it. She took a deep breath and read.

_Dearest Ginny,_

_How was your Christmas? Daphne and I had a nice Christmas here. It was pretty quiet, but the quiet is nice. I haven’t had much real quiet in a long time, so it’s been really good to just relax for a bit. Obviously, I have a ton of school work, so I’m not just sitting around doing nothing all the time. Daphne’s been making sure I take plenty of breaks and get sleep though because she’s a good sister._

_Iris said she’s told you about her now and that you were really good about it. I knew you would be. Even the castle is good about it: she can walk up the stairs to the Gryffindor girls’ dorms without them turning into a slide because the castle knows she’s a girl. Very handy for shutting up anyone who does have a problem with it, though she hasn’t actually told many people outside the society yet. She’s planning on coming out to the rest of school once term starts though._

_I still think it’s funny that Gryffindor was so worried about boys in the girls’ dorms but not girls in the boys’ dorms. Imagine being selectively paranoid, ha. Here in Slytherin we just distrust everyone, and that’s why our dorms attack all intruders indiscriminately. Harrison’s dorm has only just recently stopped sending snakes after me any time I go down to look for him. Bit disappointing, if I’m honest. I was getting pretty good at dodging the fangs!_

_Anyway, Italy is nice. Much hotter than home, but we have these amazing blankets that cool you down, kind of like what I wear under my Healer uniform. I think it’s the same charm at least. It feels pretty similar. So it’s hot, but not unpleasantly so. Just feels weird to have it be so warm for Christmas, you know? We definitely didn’t have a white Christmas here._

_I tried going to the shops here, and it turns out in Italy, they speak Italian. Who could have guessed? I remember more Italian than I expected at least, but I was always pretty rubbish at it. Languages are more Daphne’s thing, so I’m letting her do the shopping from now on. Leave the Italian to the pros._

_Okay, I need to wrap this up so I can send this letter and then pack. I’ll probably be back in Scotland by the time you get this (sorry, not even going to have time for a quick visit before I need to be back at school). I hope you had a lovely Christmas and New Years’, Ginny, and that everything is going well for you. Miss you lots._

_With love,_

_Astoria xxx_

Ginny read through the letter several times. Astoria sounded… happy? Surely Ginny had misread or misunderstood. Something felt off. Astoria couldn’t be happy. She was lying, hiding how she really felt to spare Ginny the guilt. 

But she replayed the stories her friends had told about Astoria. The Astoria in them was incredibly busy and perhaps a bit worn down, but she was also popular and well-liked. A year ago, Astoria couldn’t even sneeze without rumours flying that it was a secret, Dark sneeze the Death Eaters had taught her. Ginny and Rhianna had done everything they could to maintain Astoria’s innocence to little avail. But between the letter and her friends' stories, it sounded like the school _liked_ Astoria now. 

The realisation felt like a sack of bricks in Ginny’s stomach. Astoria was happy. Ginny hadn’t reached out to Astoria once in four months, and Astoria was happy. They weren’t friends. Astoria might be feigning friendship for Ginny’s sake, but there was no way they were friends. 

Astoria was happy without Ginny. The words twisted and turned through Ginny’s brain, through her stomach, spinning round and round like the silver ring on Ginny’s finger. Ginny looked down at her hand and stared at the ring. She’d thought it meant Astoria missed her, that Astoria wished she was here with Ginny just as much as Ginny had wanted her here, but it was just a stupid bit of metal. Ginny ripped it off her finger and flung it across the room, letting out a screech as she did.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Did she really want Astoria to be sad and lonely without her? Had she really hoped that Astoria wouldn’t move on with her life, that she’d be stuck dwelling on the loss of her friend and the loss of whatever could have been between them?

 _Yes_ , Ginny thought miserably as a great tidal wave of tears suddenly ripped through her. She wanted Astoria to hurt the way she’d been hurting. She was desperately lonely, trapped in the darkest corners of her mind, scrambling in search of an escape without any success, and she wanted nothing more than to find Astoria in the darkness with her. She had been holding out hope that they’d somehow find each other, in spite of everything, and only then would she find her way out.

But Astoria was happy without her. Astoria wasn’t lost in the darkness, suffocating on loneliness, choking on self-hatred. Astoria was happy, and Ginny could not find it within herself to feel even the slightest bit of happiness for her. Astoria was happy, and Ginny was all alone.

Ginny screamed again, buckling over into the letter still gripped in her hands. Four miserable months she’d spent, holding out hope that this was all just a simple mistake, that the universe cared about her and would somehow right itself. The universe didn’t care about her though. No one was coming to save her. She was still rotting in the chamber, alone and miserable and screaming.

A cold, high laugh filled her ears. _Silly little girl,_ Riddle said.

Another screamed ripped out of Ginny’s lungs, and she lunged blindly across the room, reaching for anything she could hit, anything she could break. She didn’t care what she might break. She didn’t care that her fists and feet would throb painfully later. She just punched and kicked and threw herself around, screaming.

“Ginny!” 

The world twisted and turned with every blow Ginny tried to deal it. It was laughing, mocking her. She wanted to destroy it all, but she was powerless. She wanted to rip herself to shreds, but the world wouldn’t let her. It was holding her down.

“Ginny!”

Ginny screamed back and tried to wrench free. If she could just get her arms free, she could tear through her skin. She could make herself feel all the pain she’d wished on Astoria. 

“Ginny!” 

Suddenly, her brother’s face swam before her. _Ron._

“Ginny!” 

It sounded so much like Ron. Ron wouldn’t want her to hurt herself, but he wouldn’t understand. Ginny reached out for his face, sure it was an illusion, another cruel trick of her imagination. It was surprisingly solid.

“Ginny,” Ron said again. 

Ginny blinked. Ron was really in front of her, kneeling in front of her where she’d fallen to the floor, holding her arms firmly.

“Ginny, what’s happened?” Ron asked. “Marzie said—”

“Astoria,” Ginny croaked.

“What? Did something happen to—?”

Ginny tried to explain, but all that came out was a sob. The fight seemed to leave Ginny at last and she slumped forward, into her brother’s arms. He shifted to pull her against his chest, and Ginny cried hard into him.

When Ginny ran out of tears and oxygen returned to her lungs, she pulled away and saw Marzie hovering in the doorway, holding a tray of tea. Ginny looked at her and blinked slowly, as if seeing her flatmate for the first time.

“I made you tea,” Marzie said softly. 

Ginny nodded and lifted her hand toward Marzie.

Marzie knelt down and handed a cup to Ginny. “Do you want privacy, or—?” 

“Stay,” Ginny said. “Please.” She took the cup and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of the cup spread through her fingers.

Marzie sat down on the floor with them, but neither Ron nor Marzie said anything.

Ginny opened her eyes again and looked around her room. There were holes in the wall where she’d punched through it, and the door of her wardrobe was hanging off its hinges now. Her own voice echoed in her head, screaming indiscriminately for years at anyone who angered her. Harry’s slightly crooked nose from when she’d broken it last summer, Rhianna’s flinch as Ginny snapped, George whisking her away before she could blow up at a customer, the thud as Astoria hit the dirt. 

“I’m not okay,” Ginny said quietly. She looked at Marzie and then Ron. “I want to be okay.”

No one was coming to save her. No one could. She was trapped in a dark chamber of her own making, and the only one who could save her, she realised suddenly, was her. She had spent eight years waiting for Harry to save her from herself, and when he couldn’t do it, she’d just expected Astoria to come save her instead. But this was Ginny’s battle. Whatever help she might have, it was ultimately hers to win or lose. No one could do it for her.

“You will,” Marzie said.

Ginny drank her tea slowly, willing her resolve to cement itself deep in her bones. She’d leapt into battle and faced Death Eaters and their allies daily for a year straight for the sake of her friends. She could find the courage to face down the darkness inside herself too, if not for her own sake, then theirs.

“I think I want to take a walk,” Ginny said when she finished her tea. 

Ron and Marzie exchanged a quick glance. “Fresh air could be good,” Ron said. 

“Will you come with me, Ron?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

Ginny handed her cup to Marzie and stood up. She swayed slightly, but Ron jumped to his feet and steadied her. She looked at him and realised he was in his work clothes. “You can’t go outside like that,” she said. Then she looked down at herself. “And I look like a witch.”

“Here,” Marzie said. She got up too and pointed her wand at Ginny.

“No, I want to do it properly,” Ginny said. She knew it was probably silly, but she felt like she needed to wear real muggle-passing clothes, not just an illusion. She needed to be fully honest right now, and even a simple clothes illusion felt like a lie. “I’ll be okay,” she said, and then she waved Marzie and Ron out so she could change.

When Ginny and Ron walked out into the muggle town, the sun had already set, but the sky was still alight with the embers of daylight. Neither spoke, and Ginny wasn’t really sure where they were going. She just followed her feet, and eventually, they led her and Ron to the breakwater.

“Marzie sent for you somehow, didn’t she?” Ginny asked as they walked. 

“Er, yeah,” Ron said. He reached into his pocket and took out a small mirror. “We got them shortly after you moved in. She’s been really worried about you, Ginny. We all have.”

Ginny reached out and took the mirror from her brother. “I moved almost four months ago.” She turned it over in her hands, grateful that she seemed to have run out of tears to cry. He’d worried about her for four months.

“Well, yeah, you, er…” Ron scratched the back of his head. “I know you’re tough, Ginny, but…”

“I’m not okay.” Ginny sighed. “It’s okay. I think I’m ready to hear it. I think I need to.” She caught her own eye in the mirror. Even in the darkness, she could see they were puffy and red. She looked like a terrified animal, desperately in need of help but one wrong move away from biting. 

“It was hard enough last year.”

“Last year?”

“Yeah, you never wrote back, and then—”

“I hate letters. I hate writing them.” Something unpleasant swirled in Ginny’s stomach. “It reminds me of the diary.” She stopped walking and blinked. She’d never consciously made the connection, but it made sense. 

“I didn’t realise.”

Ginny shook her head. “Neither did I. It’s okay. You were saying?” She started walking again, and Ron followed.

“Right, well, we went months hearing almost nothing from you, and then when you were home, you were always smiling one minute and, er, screaming the next. Like one morning you came down looking sleepy, so Mum suggested we could pick up whatever you needed and let you stay home and rest. You, er…”

“Screamed at her to stop treating me like a child.” Ginny winced at the memory. 

“And hexed George for telling you to lay off her. Dad, er…”

“Had to restrain me,” Ginny finished for him. 

“We all figured it was because you and Harry were in a fight again, but, well, you two have been fighting for over a year. I know he’s been a bit of an idiot the last few months, but—”

“—but I’m the one going around trying to kiss his girlfriend just to spite him.”

“Wait, what?”

Ginny groaned and threw herself down on the guard wall. She leaned back on her hands and tossed her head back as Ron joined her. “I almost kissed Jeanette. He told me off for being a git to her and made it out to be because I was still into him or something daft, so I just… lost my fucking mind and almost kissed his girlfriend like a twat.”

“Well, er, you didn’t? That’s something?”

“I’m not jealous he’s dating someone. I’m jealous he’s not fucking miserable. I’m jealous of everyone being not fucking miserable.”

“Like Rhianna?”

“Oh, Merlin, what the fuck have I done to her?”

“What?”

Ginny shut her eyes. Inhale for four, exhale for eight. “Sorry. I want to hear it.”

“Er…”

Ginny looked at Ron seriously. “I’m not going to yell at you for it. I know I’m…” She thought of her own terrified eyes staring back at her. “I trust you, Ron. It might be annoying sometimes knowing you’re always looking out for me, but I’d be dead a thousand times over without you. I want to know what I’ve done because I want to figure out how to be better.”

“I’d be just as dead without you, Ginny.” 

“Rubbish.”

“I would, Ginny.” He looked up at the sky. “I wanted to die. I felt like a blight on everything—our family, our friends, the Auror Office, everything we’ve fought for. Hermione loved me, and I knew I could never love her the way she deserved. I wished it had been me instead of Fred. I… had plans.”

“What?” Ginny’s heart was in her throat suddenly. 

“I’m fine now,” Ron said quickly. “I mean it. But I was in a really awful place, Ginny, and you…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I really needed you last summer. You saved my life. I’m not about to go Rhianna levels of telling everyone I’m gay, but I’m… learning to be okay with it. I’m even thinking I might tell George.”

“Really?”

“I’ll never hear the end of it from him, but I think he’d be okay about it.”

“I’m sure he would be.”

“Yeah, so what I was trying to say is…” He took a deep breath and looked at her. “You were there for me when I needed you, Ginny, so let me be here for you.”

Ginny rested her head on Ron’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “I think I really need you now.”

Ron put his arm around her, and then they both fell silent. The waves crashed again and again against the breakwater, sometimes spraying them with mist. Above them, the darkness of night was making way for the first stars to begin their nightly twinkling. Just as Ginny considered how their light could only be seen in darkness, Ron stood up suddenly. 

“C’mon,” he said quietly. “We need to keep moving.”

“What?” Ginny said. 

But Ron just pulled her to her feet and waved her on, further out along the breakwater. “Don’t look,” he said, “but I think someone might be following us.”

Ginny resisted the urge to turn around. “By who? Why?”

“I don’t know. But we’re too close to the muggle town still, so just keep walking.”

Ginny decided not to argue. Ron had worked as an Auror for a year hunting down Death Eaters and others who’d helped Voldemort. He could be a bit paranoid at times, but he also knew these sort of things better than she did. It seemed unlikely though some dark wizard would have chosen tonight to follow them out on the breakwater. 

“I have feelings for Astoria,” Ginny said as they walked. “Or did. Or do. I don’t know. I fucked things up with her though.”

“You’re gay?” Ron asked. 

Ginny groaned. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I fancy boys, and maybe Astoria is just too Astoria for it to matter if she’s a boy or girl or who even knows, but maybe it’s not just her. But I don’t _want_ to be. Not because I think there’s anything wrong with being gay but because, you know, I’m just kind of awful.”

“You’re not—”

“I threw Astoria like ten feet threw the air just because she wouldn’t let me kiss her. Gay people don’t need me running around giving all of you an even worse reputation while I scream at everyone. I’m the biggest public figure in the country talking about gay rights, and I only get away with being so angry all the time and yelling at reporters every other week because I look like I’m sticking up for other people, not me. If everyone knew—”

“Fuck what other people think.”

“It’s not what they think about me. It’s what they’d think about you or Rhianna or—”

“I still say fuck ‘em. You’re telling me I’m not the only one in the family? I’ll take it.”

“I said maybe. I don’t know. Either way, I’m still a giant arsehole. Or act like one at least, but I’m not sure there’s a difference.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re an arsehole. I think you’re just… in a bad place right now. You’re only ever mean when you get scared.”

Ginny saw her own eyes again in her mind, red and puffy, full of fear. “My therapist says I’m depressed.”

The words hung between them in silence as they walked. Ginny thought it was stupid. She wasn’t sad; she was angry. But her own eyes kept staring back at her like something small and defenceless, not the terrifying, raging monster she usually saw herself as. Maybe sad wasn’t the right word, but maybe depression wasn’t as far off as she wanted to believe either. 

When they reached the lighthouse, Ginny walked around it and found a spot on the guard wall to lean against, looking out at the sea. Ron leaned beside her, but he was facing away, back to the sea. Ginny counted the cycles of the light. One, two, three—

“Show yourself!” Ron said. He jumped to his feet, wand out. 

Ginny turned and followed his gaze toward the ground. The light spun again and lit up a shaggy dog standing just beyond the edge of the lighthouse. Its head was bent low to the ground, tail between its legs, and Ginny thought the dog might be shaking. It looked terrified. Ginny knelt down and held out her hand toward the dog. 

“What are you doing?” Ron said. He stepped in front of Ginny, and the dog retreated around the corner. 

“It’s just a dog, Ron,” Ginny said as she stood back up. 

“It followed us all the way out here. That’s not normal dog behaviour.”

“Is that who you said was following us earlier?”

“It was following us in town too, Ginny. What if it’s an animagus?”

“Oh, good, maybe a _Daily Prophet_ reporter who got some good dirt on me to put in the paper tomorrow.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. You really think it’s some dark witch or wizard waiting for a better time than a minute ago to attack us?”

“At least let me check before you go trying to make friends with a strange dog.”

“It’s probably just looking for food, but fine, just don’t hurt it.”

“It won’t hurt if it’s a normal dog.” Then Ron hardened his face and crept after the dog, wand out. 

The dog had only retreated around the corner, but when it saw Ron, it growled, hackles raised. Ron fired a quick series of spells, and the dog yelped and ran around the next corner, and Ron took off after it. 

“I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt it!” Ginny said as she followed them. 

“I didn’t!” Ron said. 

They ran a full circle around the lighthouse before Ron finally stopped chasing the dog. 

“It’s just a dog,” he said. 

“You scared it!” Ginny said.

“Well, it’s not my fault the bloody mutt is skittish.”

“Whatever. We’re not being followed. Would you relax now?” She turned away from where the dog had run off and hopped up on the guard wall to sit, staring back out at sea again. 

Ron climbed up next to her a moment later and put his arm around her. “I thought you liked having your big brother always looking out for you,” he said. 

“Oh, shut up,” she said and elbowed him gently in the ribs. “You’ve saved me from the big scary dog, Mister Macho. Very heroic.” She leaned against him and listened to his steady breathing. 

After a few minutes, Ginny felt something cold and wet and solid bump the back of her hand, and she jumped so hard she nearly fell into the sea, if not for Ron grabbing her. Heart pounding, she whipped her head around and saw the dog behind them, retreating but staring up at her. It must have been the dog’s nose. 

“I’m telling you, Ginny,” Ron said, “there’s something funny about—”

“Shh!” Ginny hissed. She smacked his arm and slipped off the wall and into a crouch, hand out again. 

The dog looked between her and Ron. 

“All right, all right, bloody beast,” Ron said. He hopped off the wall and backed away, hands up. “I’m watching you, mutt. Hurt her, and I’ll hurt you.”

The dog watched him back away and then turned its attention entirely on Ginny. 

“It’s okay,” Ginny said gently. “I won’t hurt you.”

The dog inched forward, head down. It threw several nervous glances at Ron, but when Ron stayed back, the dog made its way closer and closer to Ginny’s outstretched hand. It stopped to sniff her hand cautiously and then nudged her hand gently. Ginny stroked the dog’s chin, and its tail swayed a little, still tucked between its legs. 

“Are you hungry?” Ginny said. “I don’t have any food.”

The dog licked Ginny’s wrist and took another step forward. 

“Is that a yes? Do you want food?” She reached for its neck to check for a collar but found nothing. 

The dog’s tail was still tucked between its legs, but it was definitely wagging now. It took another step forward, but yelped and jumped away when Ginny touched its side. 

“I think its hurt,” Ginny said to Ron. She looked back at the dog. “Did that hurt? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She held out her hand again. 

“What are you going to do with a hurt stray?” Ron asked. 

“Haven’t thought that far.”

The dog inched back toward Ginny and licked her hand. 

“I’m not a very good healer,” she told the dog, “but I can at least give you food. Do you want to come with me?”

The dog licked her hand again. 

“I’m taking that as a yes. Just follow me then, pup.” She stood up slowly and looked at Ron. “Ready?”

“I’m not talking you out of this, am I?” he said. 

“What would Hagrid say if we turned away a hurt, hungry animal just because you thought it was a Death Eater in disguise?”

“Hagrid is friends with giant spiders!”

Ginny just laughed and waved Ron back along the breakwater. The dog watched Ron apprehensively but followed a few feet behind them the whole way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, in case the mention was triggering for you, here is a list of suicide hotlines and emergency numbers by country: https://www.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines
> 
> And some LGBTQ+ crisis hotlines (primarily US/Canada, but the Trevor Project's online chat should be accessible internationally): https://ostem.org/page/crisis-hotlines


	6. Gruffydd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mention of (past) animal injury, dog bite, bodily fluid (dog pee)
> 
> Welsh note: Gruffydd is pronounced like Griffith.

> Ginny’s flat.

“This is to help his bones fully heal,” Amaechi said as she took a blue phial out of one of the bags she’d brought back. “One tap daily until it runs out. Just mix it in with his food to be sure he actually eats it. Speaking of which…” Amaechi pulled out a heavy bag and dropped it to the floor with a thud. “Puppy food. One scoop, three times a day. Scoop is in the bag. Don’t keep cooking for him.”

“Sorry,” Ginny said. She had cooked up a plate of eggs and ham for the dog as soon as she got home, and Marzie had only mentioned that Amaechi had trained to be an animal healer _after_ he’d cleaned the whole plate. 

“Don’t be.” She reached back into the bags of shopping and continued to pull things out. “Brushes and detangling elixir. Get in the habit of brushing him daily. When his coat grows back in, it’s going to need it, or you’ll get matts again, especially with all the rain. Be sure to dry him off whenever he gets wet. Oh, and a jumper for him while the coat grows back.” Amaechi had shaved all the dog’s fur off because she said his fur was so badly matted that she couldn’t get them all out without risking hurting him in the process.

“Harpy green?” Ginny took the jumper and laid it over the dog’s shoulders. He was still fast asleep from the sleeping charm Amaechi had used so she could heal his injuries earlier. 

“Yeah, I bet he’d make a good seeker.” She grinned. “Anyway, I got him a bed too.” She pulled out a large cushion and dropped it on the floor. “And blankets and some chew toys that he’ll probably ignore in favour of tearing apart your furniture. Oh, and these.” She tossed a few books into Ginny’s hands. “Basic dog care, training, and all that. Raising a puppy isn’t easy, Weasley.”

“Thanks, Amaechi. How much do I owe you? I can go by Gringotts in the morning.”

Amaechi shook her head. “Don’t mention it. I think it’s sweet that you’re taking in a stray. Completely insane but sweet.”

“This can’t have been cheap.”

“I said don’t mention it.” She nodded to the dog. “I need to reverse the charm before I leave. Judging by how skittish he was before, I’d wager he’s going to be pretty freaked out when he wakes up though, and he won’t have injuries slowing him down. Why don’t we get this stuff put away, and then we can wake him up carefully?”

“Sure.”

They loaded most of the stuff back into the bags, save for the food, bone strengthening tonic, and a dog bowl. Then they carried the bags to Ginny’s room. Ginny tried to convince Amaechi she didn’t need help, mortified at what Amaechi would think of her if she saw the state of Ginny’s room, but Amaechi was insistent. 

“I knew you had to be into the Weird Sisters!” Amaechi said when she stepped inside. “I love _Centaur Century_. Easily their best album.”

“Oh, er, yeah,” Ginny said. 

Amaechi’s eyes slid over Ginny’s broken wardrobe, the holes in the wall, the detritus scattered everywhere, but she pulled her eyes back to Ginny and smiled. “Where do you want to put his bed? We should put that out for him at least.”

“I can do it,” Ginny said. She reached into the bag Amaechi had brought and pulled out the bed. She flung some clothes out of the way and then put it on the floor by her bed. “There. I’ll put the rest away later. You should go so you can have dinner.” Ginny waved Amaechi out of the room, and this time she didn’t fight Ginny. 

As Amaechi had predicted, the dog was anything but calm when he woke up. He growled at Ginny and Amaechi both and snapped his jaws when Ginny tried to reach out to him. They gave him space, and eventually he calmed down and slowly ventured over to Ginny when she sat on the ground. He sniffed around the room and sniffed Ginny all over. She decided not to try touching him again until he sat down in front of her and nudged her hand with his nose. 

“You’re not upset with me anymore, are you?” Ginny asked him as she stroked the side of his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The dog answered Ginny by licking her arm. 

“Amaechi didn’t mean to either. She’s just trying to help.” Ginny pointed to Amaechi who crouched down to get level with the dog. 

The dog tensed and bared his teeth, eyes on Amaechi. 

“She’s my friend,” Ginny said. “Look.” Ginny got onto her knees and crawled over to Amaechi. “She healed you.”

The dog looked between Ginny and Amaechi and took a hesitant step forward. When neither of them moved, his mouth relaxed and he tried another step, and then another. Amaechi held out her hand, and the dog sniffed it. Then, apparently satisfied, he sat down again and nudged Ginny’s knee.

“Glad you approve,” Ginny told the dog. 

“It was good to meet you,” Amaechi told the dog. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon, but for now, I need to go home.” She turned to Ginny. “I reckon the fire might spook him, so I’m just going to use your front door if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ginny said. 

Amaechi stood up slowly. “Tell Marzie and your brother I said hi and bye. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with your new puppy.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Then Amaechi made her way to the door slowly, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you your new bed,” Ginny said to the dog. She stood up slowly and took a couple of steps toward the hall. 

The dog looked between her and the door and decided to follow her. 

“This is my—I mean our room,” Ginny said when the dog followed her in. “I’m sorry it’s such a mess.”

The dog set about sniffing every inch of the room, shoving his snout right into every pile of Ginny’s dirty clothes. 

“Okay, okay, I know it’s kind of disgusting.” Ginny reached down and started grabbing clothes and tossing them to her mostly unused hamper. “You have to understand it’s just been me in here, and… well, I just haven’t been taking good care of myself, okay?”

The dog looked up from the corner he was sniffing and cocked his head at Ginny. 

“I know. Look, I don’t want to get into it right now. It’s a lot, and I’m tired. But I’m going to start taking care of myself now.”

The dog’s tail twitched between his legs, not quite wagging. 

“I promise.”

The dog barked once, and it somehow sounded approving. He went back to sniffing, walking faster now, and stopped suddenly in front of a pile of clothes. He pawed at the pile.

“I know, I know,” Ginny told him as she grabbed the clothes off the floor. She tossed them to the hamper too and continued grabbing dirty clothes. 

The dog pawed at the floor again. 

“I got that pile already.”

The dog just pawed again. 

Ginny sighed and walked back over to the dog. “What?” she asked, but something shiny and silver caught her eye. She bent down and picked up the ring the dog was pawing at. It was the ring Astoria gave her. 

The dog nudged her hand with his nose and whined. 

“I’m not wearing this,” Ginny said firmly. “It’s stupid. She doesn’t care. She just wanted to rub it in my face how _happy_ she is without me.” Ginny tossed the ring over her shoulder. “I don’t need any reminders of her. I just want to get over her.” Ginny turned sharply, feeling unreasonably angry with the stupid dog, and returned to picking things off the floor. 

The dog returned to sniffing, and Ginny ignored him. She didn’t want to be angry with him. He could probably just feel the patronus magic or something. It’s not like he knew it was from Astoria or who Astoria even was. 

A minute later though, the dog nudged the back of her hand. Ginny turned, and he nudged her hand again, something in his mouth. When she held out her hand to him, he dropped the ring into her hand and licked her finger tips. 

Ginny looked between the ring and the dog several times. Then she closed her eyes, slipped the (admittedly slobbery) ring onto her finger, and suddenly started crying uncontrollably. 

The dog started barking at her, but Ginny couldn’t stop herself from crying. The door flung open, and a moment later, Ginny was sobbing in her brother's arms again while the dog barked and barked and barked. 

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked when Ginny’s tears subsided. “Are you hurt? Did that mutt—”

Ginny shook her head and held up her hand. “It’s from Astoria,” she choked. “It has her patronus in it.”

Ron looked at the ring carefully. 

“He’s right. I need it, but I don’t want it to be her patronus.”

“Who’s right?”

“The dog.” She looked at the dog, who had mostly stopped barking now. “Gruffydd.”

The dog cocked his head at the sound of his new name, and his tail gave a brief, hesitant wag. 

“Oh, the dog is talking now, is he?” Ron said harshly.

“Would you relax?” Ginny snapped. “I happen to be plenty paranoid that I’ve got no ability to tell the difference between a friend and Lord Voldemort without you throwing all your Scabbers paranoia at me too.” 

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it. 

“Sorry,” Ginny said. “He’s not talking. He just gave it to me after I tried to get rid of it. I don’t want it because it’s Astoria, but she said I could put my own patronus in it.” She took a deep breath. “I could probably do with having an easy way to calm myself down on my finger at all times.”

“Do you have to do something special for it?” Ron asked. 

“Er, I’m not really sure. She didn’t say.” 

“I can try it then.” Ron took out his wand, and Gruffydd immediately started growling. 

“Shh, no, it’s okay, Gruff,” Ginny said. She knelt down and offered her hand toward him. “He’s trying to help.”

Gruffydd sniffed at her hand and then let Ginny scratch behind his ears. Once he was calmed down, Ginny slipped the ring off her finger and passed it to Ron. 

“Best guess is you just have to direct your patronus to jump into the ring somehow,” Ginny said. 

“Good of Astoria to be so clear in her instructions,” Ron said. He held out the ring in one hand and pointed his wand at it with the other. “ _Expecto patronum!_ ” A burst of silver light erupted from Ron’s wand and solidified into a small dog. 

Gruffydd completely lost it, knocked Ginny over, and chased after the patronus, barking furiously. The patronus jumped around the room while Ron screwed up his face in concentration, and then it leapt into Ron’s palm and disappeared into the ring. Gruffydd tackled Ron to the floor and bit down hard on Ron’s hand. 

“Gruffydd!” Ginny shrieked. She flung herself at the dog and knocked him away from Ron. “No! No biting!”

Gruffydd snapped his jaws at her, but she dodged his bite and smacked him on the nose. 

“Don’t you bite me!” She scolded. 

Gruffydd growled softly but backed away, head down. 

“He bit me!” Ron cried. “I’m bleeding! Bloody mutt bit me!”

“Hold still,” Ginny said. She took out her wand and grabbed her brother’s bleeding hand. 

“Ow!”

“He’s barely touched you, you big baby.” Ginny mended the tears in his skin and cleared away the blood. “You scared him.”

“He scared me!”

Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed the ring off the floor. “You think you got it in though?” she asked. 

“I think so.”

“Thanks.” Ginny slipped the ring back on her finger and looked at it. Now it wasn’t just Astoria pitying her. She could have Ron protecting her. That wasn’t so bad. Later, when she was feeling better and had space enough for a whole horse, maybe she would add her own patronus too. She looked back up at Gruffydd and then her brother. “I’m okay now, Ron. Sorry. You should probably go. I don’t think Gruffydd trusts you.”

“I don’t trust that insane dog either,” Ron muttered, rubbing his hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired.”

“Be sure to eat dinner before you go to sleep.”

“I will. Gruff was just helping me clean up a bit here, and then I’ll get us both some dinner.” She looked at her dog and smiled. “He’s taking care of me.”

Ron looked like he thought that was unlikely, but he just shook his head. “I’m sorry about all this, Ginny. Astoria, Harry, everything else you’ve been going through—it sucks. But I’m here if you need anything, okay? We can get mirrors or something if you don’t like post and don’t want to come by because of Harry.”

“Thanks, Ron.”

“You’ll be okay. You’ve got Marzie here, too.”

“Yeah.”

Ron hugged Ginny again tightly and held on like he didn’t really want to let go. 

“I’ve got your patronus,” Ginny reminded him. 

Ron let go of her and grinned suddenly. “So all this time you’ve been trying to help Harry and Hermione drag me off to a gay pub, it turns out you just want to go find yourself a girlfriend.”

“What?” Ginny’s face burned, and she spluttered our several half-formed excuses. 

Ron laughed. “If I get to embarrass you, I’m in.”

“You are _not_ telling Harry! Or Hermione because she’ll tell Harry, and again, no Harry!”

“C’mon, Ginny, I really think you need to go to a gay pub so you can learn to accept yourself!” 

Ginny shoved him. “Prat.” Not that she hadn’t been telling him that for months, ever since she found out gay pubs existed. 

Gruffydd growled from the corner where he’d been watching them cautiously. 

“Oh, no, Gruff, it’s fine,” Ginny said quickly. She hugged Ron and smiled at the dog. “See? I’m fine.” She turned back to Ron. “Fine. I’ll go, and you can tell yourself we’re going for me, but we’re going for you. I’m just fine with myself.”

“As am I.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Go on. I’ll never eat if you insist on standing around winding me up all night.”

“Let me be there for you, Ginny.”

“I will. Good night, Ron.”

“Good night, Ginny.”

Then, finally, Ron left, and Ginny flung herself down on her bed. Gruff returned to his sniffing, checking out every inch of his new room. After a minute, he stopped, and then Ginny heard—

“No, Gruffydd!” she shrieked and leapt out of bed. “Bad dog! No peeing!” She swatted at him, and he bolted away from her. “Oh, Merlin, it stinks!” She tried to vanish the pee, but the smell lingered anyway. 

Gruffydd cowered in the furthest corner, head between his paws. 

Ginny sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. But you can’t pee in here. That’s for outside, okay? Just, I dunno, paw at the door when you want to go potty.” She pointed to the door, but Gruff just stared at her looking terrified. Ginny sat down on the floor and held out her hand. “I’m sorry, see? I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just like I know you didn’t mean to hurt Ron.”

Gruffydd continued to just stare. 

“Okay, well, I need to eat dinner. You can come join me when you’re ready.” Ginny stood up and opened the door. She glanced back at him, but he still hadn’t moved, so she walked out and left the door open. 

“I made extra pasta,” Marzie said when Ginny walked in. She was sitting at the table writing a letter, her empty dinner plate shoved aside. “How’s the puppy?”

“Terrified of me,” Ginny said. She grabbed a clean plate and dished herself some of the pasta Marzie had made. “Thanks.” 

A few minutes later, Gruffydd came into the kitchen, sniffing at the air. He walked up beside Ginny and put his front paws up on the table. 

“No,” Ginny said firmly but without shouting. She pushed him back down. “Have you forgiven me then?”

Gruffydd nudged her elbow with his snout. 

“Okay, let's get you dinner.” She stood up, shooed Gruff away from the table and opened the cabinet where they’d put his food. “This is special food just for you, so you can grow up strong and healthy.” She grabbed his new bowl, filled it with one scoop, and looked back down at him. “Should we do your tonic now? Or maybe we can do it in the mornings, and then we can both take our potions together.”

Gruffydd gave a gentle bark, which Ginny took to be agreement. 

“Good plan. I’ll make sure you take your tonic, and you make sure I take my potions.” Ginny shut the cupboard and looked around the kitchen for the right spot to feed him. She couldn’t decide, so she just set the bowl down by her chair and sat back down to finish her own dinner. 

“You’re keeping him in your room while you sleep, right?” Marzie asked. Her voice betrayed a slight bit of panic. 

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” Ginny said. “Why?”

“I’m kind of afraid of dogs,” Marzie said quietly. 

“You are?” Ginny looked quickly between Gruffydd and Marzie. “I guess I can… Hagrid might…”

“No, it’s fine. He can stay. I’m just… a bit nervous about it.”

“I’ll keep him in my room at night.”

“Just warn me when you’re letting him roam freely through the flat.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Ginny.”

Ginny’s attention was pulled away by the sounds of Gruffydd pawing again. She looked down and saw him flip the edge of his bowl and then grab it with his mouth. He dropped the bowl into Ginny’s lap and sat down, looking at her expectantly. 

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you want more?” she asked. “I don’t think I should give you any more. One scoop three times a day is what Amaechi said.” She scratched behind his ears. “Sorry, Gruffydd.” Then she got up and put his bowl away in the cupboard. 

“I can get the dishes, Ginny,” Marzie said, eyes on Gruffydd. 

“Thanks, Marzie,” Ginny said. “C’mon, Gruff, let’s go outside and potty.”

Convincing a dog to go potty, Ginny quickly realised, was an exercise in frustration. Gruffydd didn’t want to go out, didn’t want his jumper on, and once outside, didn’t want to go more than a foot away from the door or Ginny. 

“I’m not getting rid of you, Gruffydd,” she said. “I promise. I just want you to pee _outside_ so you don’t pee inside.”

After twenty minutes of fighting with him outside, Ginny gave up and waved him back into the flat. As soon as she opened the door, he raced inside and into her bedroom. She followed him and found him sitting on her bed. 

“That’s my bed, Gruffydd,” she said. “Your bed is right there.” She pointed to the dog bed on the floor which she’d covered in blankets. “Go on, go to your bed.” She pushed him off the bed and directed him to his. 

Gruffydd grudgingly got onto his bed, walked in several circles, and then laid down. 

“Good boy, Gruffydd.” Ginny pat his back and pulled one of the blankets over him. “Isn’t that nice?”

Ginny fixed her wardrobe door and tried to straighten up a bit more so anything that might be dangerous for Gruffydd to find was at least out of his reach. Once she finished futzing around the room and got ready for bed, she dragged Gruffydd out one more time. This time, he actually peed, much to Ginny’s relief, and then they came back in. Again, he raced to Ginny’s bed, and she shooed him off to his own bed. But as soon as she got into bed and turned out the lights, he hopped back up on the bed, wriggled his way under the covers, and curled up next to Ginny. 

“Fine,” Ginny sighed. “Just one night.” Then she rolled over and wrapped her arm around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely will just be one night, right?


	7. Admiral Duncan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: use of homophobic slur (“faggot”) sort of self-referentially, alcohol use, brief mention of sexism, internalised homophobia, references to past violence (no gore)

> Saturday, 5 Feb 2000. Muggle London. Evening. 

“Are you sure you know how to read that thing, Hermione?” Ron asked sceptically as he looked over her shoulder. 

“Of course I can read it,” Hermione said. “It’s a map, Ronald.” She frowned at the map and rotated it. 

“Remind me again why we didn’t just ask Rhianna?” Harry said. 

“Because Ronald is worried a gay person might think he’s gay,” Hermione said. 

“Now, hang on!” Ron said. “I didn’t ask her because it’s rude. I didn’t want to _tokenise_ her.” He puffed up his chest and exchanged a grin with Harry. Hermione had told Ron off last week for asking for her “woman’s opinion” on some new product he and George were working on and had to explain what “tokenisation” meant.

“Good thinking, Ron,” Ginny said. “Now it can just be a happy surprise if we run into her there, and then you two can chat all about it when you see each other for work.”

All of the colour drained from Ron’s face, and he stuttered out half formed sentences while the others laughed. 

“Perfect plan, Ron,” Harry said. 

“Oh no, I think we should have turned left back there,” Hermione said. She turned around and walked past them, staring at the map. 

“We could just ask someone,” Harry said. 

“‘Hey there, fine chap,’” Ron said in a mocking voice, “‘any chance you know the where all the gays hang out?’”

“No one says ‘fine chap,’” Hermione said. “And we’re not lost. We just made one wrong turn, and I’ve fixed it now.” She held the map to Ron’s face. “See? Just keep going this way, and then it’s right on Dean and a left on Old Compton, and we’re there.” She tapped the map to prove her point. 

“Do you think Dean knows his street is right by a gay pub?” Harry asked. 

“Oh, there’s a great conversation starter, mate,” Ron said sarcastically. 

The three of them followed Hermione, and soon enough, they were facing an unfamiliar pub with the words “Admiral Duncan” painted above.

Ginny exchanged a brief, nervous look with Ron and then took his arm. “C’mon, let’s get you a boyfriend,” she said. 

Harry laughed, and the four of them walked into the pub. Ginny was immediately stuck, as she so often was in the muggle world, by just how much bigger the place was than she had expected. It wasn’t a huge place by any stretch, but it was certainly bigger than Y Crafanc Werdd and packed with people. _Gay people_ , Ginny told herself. There were two men snogging barely a foot away, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“There’s a free table over there,” Hermione said, all business. She took Ron’s other arm and pulled him toward it.

They slipped into stools and looked around. Or at least Hermione and Ginny did. Ron had become incredibly interested in his hands, fidgeting nervously in front of him on the table, and Harry was staring over Ginny’s shoulder at one spot, unblinking. Ginny, sure he was gawking at some couple snogging or something, kicked him in the shins under the table.

“Ow!” Harry said, snapping his attention to Ginny. “What was that for?”

“Don’t stare at people, Harry,” Ginny hissed.

“I wasn’t staring!” Harry’s eyes flickered back to where he had been looking. “I just zoned out.”

Ginny spun around to follow his gaze, but all she saw were people dancing. Nothing that made sense for Harry to be gawking at. She looked back at him seriously. “Well, don’t zone out where there are people. It’s rude enough in a normal place.”

“It’s probably not rude, Ginny,” Hermione said. An amused look spread across her face. “In fact, I suspect it’s very much the opposite of rude for a bloke to stare at another bloke here.”

At that, Harry’s eyes went wide, and he stammered out a bunch of protests, sending Hermione into a fit of giggles. 

“Do try not to hit on anyone then, Harry,” Ginny said. “We’re here to get Ron a boyfriend, not you. You’ll have to wait until next week at least.”

“I rather fancy _girls_ , thanks,” Harry said. “The straight kind.”

At that, Ron snorted, and Ginny had to resist sending him a swift kick in the shins too. She still hadn’t told Harry or Hermione, and she wasn’t planning on it either. There was just no way it would be anything but awkward with Harry, and telling Hermione greatly increased the chances that Harry would find out somehow. 

So, instead of kicking her brother, Ginny pulled her attention away from the table and looked around some more. At the far end of the pub was a small stage where a fabulously dressed woman seemed to be performing, much to the excitement of several of the patrons. There was a small dance floor area in front of the stage where people were dancing, many in groups, some in pairs. There were definitely a lot of men being far more touchy with each other than Ginny was used to seeing, and there were also some women doing the same, but Ginny couldn’t really tell if that was _gay_ or just women being women. It wasn’t like it was taboo for women to touch each other or dance together. But, given that it was a gay pub, maybe they were gay too. 

They looked… happy. Ginny could feel herself retreating away, frightened by the ease with which all these strangers smiled. She didn’t want to be part of this, didn’t want to ruin any of it, but she fought back against the feeling. _I’m allowed to be happy_ , she told herself firmly. Maybe she wasn’t ready to dive in waving pride flags, but she could at least sit here, quietly entertaining the possibility that some future version of herself, one who was kinder and more patient, less prone to lashing out—maybe that Ginny could take part in their joy.

When Ginny finally looked back at the table, it was to find Harry staring over her shoulder again. He caught her eye and stood up suddenly. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

Ginny whipped her head around and this time saw why Harry had been staring: Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall by the dance floor, apparently alone. Ginny swore, jumped up and grabbed Harry’s arm. “Harry,” she said firmly. “Don’t you _dare_ .” The last time they’d seen Malfoy, Harry had been very drunk and gotten into a nasty fight that ended up on the front page of _The Daily Prophet_. Malfoy hadn’t done anything but politely ask to be left alone, but Harry had refused to back down.

“It’s fine, Ginny,” Harry said. He smiled slightly. “I’m not going to do anything. Just going to, you know—”

“Oh, sure, you’re just going to say hi to Draco Malfoy?” The idea was beyond absurd. 

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely not.”

But rather than listen to her, Harry just sidestepped her just like he’d done in July. 

Ginny grabbed his arm again and pulled. “Harry, Ron does not need you starting a bloody—”

“I’m _not_ ,” Harry insisted. He shook himself free of Ginny and slipped into the crowd.

Ginny swore and went after him, jostled by the other patrons on the way and unable to keep up entirely.

“Potter,” came a cold, unhappy drawl. 

Ginny pushed past the last person in her way and stopped. Malfoy and Harry were standing hardly more than a couple inches apart, face to face. Malfoy looked, unsurprisingly, not at all pleased by the current situation, but his eyes flickered to Ginny, and his expression softened slightly. Briefly, his note last July flashed through her mind. _Thank you, Weasley_ , his neat cursive had spelled out. Ginny had been the one to stop Harry that night.

“Malfoy,” Harry said. Someone dancing nearby bumped into Harry, and he stumbled forward. He threw out his hand to catch himself, landing beside Malfoy’s head on the wall.

“The answer is no, Potter,” Malfoy said, sounding exhausted. “There are plenty of other blokes here, so please leave me alone.”

Harry scrambled back, face red. “Er, no, I’m not—I was just—”

Malfoy looked at Ginny again and sighed. “Dear Merlin, this is some noble shit, isn’t it? He’s come over here to impress you, hasn’t he?” Malfoy pulled himself off the wall and stepped closer to Harry, looking down his nose at him. “Go on then, Potter. Impress her.”

Harry glanced at Ginny, gave himself a slight shake, and looked at Malfoy. “Just thought I owed you an apology.” He stuck out his hand, and sort of awkwardly fit it between them despite how close Malfoy was standing.

“What do you think, Weasley?” Malfoy said. “Should I accept the vague apology? And, more importantly, is he getting your knickers wet with his manly chivalry?”

Harry shoved Malfoy back angrily, but then he caught himself, straightened up, and said calmly, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Malfoy brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen in his face and smoothed out his shirt, eyes on Harry. “Perhaps consider that I might be a poor choice of a wingman, Potter.”

“Let’s just go, Harry,” Ginny said quietly. She reached for his arm, but he pulled away.

Instead, Harry took another step closer to Malfoy, which was clearly not what Malfoy had been expecting. “Come sit with us,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry, I seem to have misheard you, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Did you just—”

“You’re not here with anyone else, are you?”

“That is none of your business, Potter.”

“I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Are you insane?”

“One drink, and then you can return to sulking in the corner.”

“I am not sulking.”

“What do you drink? Beer? Wine?”

Malfoy sighed. “I knew I should have gone to Manchester tonight. _One drink_ , Potter. St. Clements.”

Harry beamed. “Brilliant. It’s this way.” He turned and started making his way back through the dance floor.

“My apologies for the crude comment, Wealsey,” Malfoy said before she could follow Harry. “And thank you again for…” His eyes darted back and forth between hers for a moment. “Well, just thank you.” Then, without another word, Malfoy disappeared after Harry, leaving Ginny dumbfounded and confused. 

But rather than revisit the confusion and anger she’d felt after that fight last summer, Ginny just shook herself and made her way back through the dance floor and to their table.

“What the bloody hell is he doing here?” Ron was saying as Ginny caught up. His eyes were on Malfoy, and they were not at all kind.

“Potter has insisted on buying me a drink,” Malfoy said as he slipped into the stool beside Hermione. “Believe me, Weasley, I have just as little interest in this little gathering of yours as you have in having me join you. The dislike is mutual.”

“Harry’s trying to impress me again,” Ginny said dryly. 

“By which comment, I can only assume it is graciously not working.”

Ron snorted, and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

“So, since I am stuck here,” Malfoy continued, ignoring Ron, “what on earth has brought you lot to haunt this once lovely place?”

“Could ask the same of you,” Ron huffed. 

“I am here to flirt with men who don’t find my flirting offensive,” Malfoy said. “Surely this is not a novel idea to you?” 

“You mean looking for new victims? These are _muggle_ men. I should report you.”

Malfoy closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, there was something deeply familiar in them that Ginny couldn’t quite place. 

“St. Clements,” Harry announced, grinning. He was carrying several glasses in his hands, all balanced precariously. With Ginny’s help, he set them down on the table. “Got some for all of us. When in Rome.”

“Drink as the faggots do?” Malfoy said pointedly. 

Harry’s face went pale, and he stammered nervously, full of half-formed excuses and weak apologies for having called Malfoy that last summer.

“I must warn you,” Malfoy continued. “It’s very strong compared to the weak butterbeers you lot are used to. And, in a place like this?” He gave a dramatic flourish of his arm. “Well, Potter, you might find yourself interested in the _other_ Weasley.” 

Ron’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet, but he didn’t manage to come up with anything rude enough to say to Malfoy. 

Malfoy threw back his drink, downed the entire thing, and set the glass down. “There we go. I’ve had a drink.” He stood up, but Harry reached out and caught his wrist. Malfoy arched an eyebrow, but Harry didn’t let go.

“Stay for the round,” Harry said. “I’ll buy you another if you want.”

Malfoy snorted. “Trying to get me drunk, Potter?”

“I didn’t tell you to chug your drink.”

“Fine, loosen me up and rid me of my better judgement. That seems wise.”

“How many do you need?”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow again. “I don’t want to get too far ahead of you now, do I, Potter?” He looked at Ginny again with a look that seemed like some sort of inside joke, but she hadn’t the faintest clue what the joke was.

Harry hesitated for a moment then threw back his own drink just as Malfoy had done. When he finished, he flashed Malfoy a boyish grin. “I’ll go get us another round then.”

Malfoy’s eyes followed Harry as he left, and an awkward silence fell over the table, interrupted only by the music and partying just beyond them.

“Do your parents know?” Hermione asked suddenly. “I’ve read about pureblood—”

“I would rather not discuss my family with you, Granger,” Malfoy said sharply. 

“Sorry,” she said, and Ginny was surprised to hear it sounded sincere. 

“It’s fine.” It didn’t sound fine. “Draw your own conclusions about why I am in a muggle pub when there are perfectly good wizarding ones I could go to instead.”

Another awkward silence followed, and this time it stuck until Harry returned with two more drinks in hand. 

“To new beginnings,” Harry said as he handed one glass to Malfoy.

Malfoy clinked his glass to Harry’s and, without missing a beat, downed the entire glass in one go again. Harry, not one to be outdone, did the same, and then he grinned stupidly at Malfoy.

“I’ve had two drinks now, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Are you happy? Satisfied?”

“Not at all yet,” Harry said. He looked around the table. “Go on then, drink. This stuff is good.” Then he got up to grab another round of drinks for him and Malfoy.

“He’s trying to get Harry drunk,” Ron said, eyes narrowed at Malfoy. 

“That’s it exactly, Weasley,” Malfoy said. “I have been waiting here, night after night, for Potter to come accost me and demand I drink with him so that I can get _him_ drunk and strike when his defences are lowered. I’m caught. I believe there’s an off-duty Auror here to whom you might report me?”

“Don’t you get smart.”

“If I were smart, I would have run the moment I realised you lot were here. Unfortunately, I naïvely expected the disinterest was mutual.”

“Believe me, I’ve got no interest in talking to you either.”

“And yet you continue to open your mouth.”

Ron opened his mouth to argue and then shut it. He glared furiously at Malfoy, but Malfoy simply turned away and looked around the pub.

Harry returned with several more drinks and a smile still plastered across his face. “We should play a game,” Harry announced as he set the drinks down.

“Absolutely not,” Ron said. “What we should do is leave before this slimy ferret makes me break the Statute of Secrecy.”

Harry’s face fell. “C’mon, Ron, I—”

“We didn’t come here so you could make nice with Malfoy and pretend to be chums.” Ron looked at Ginny suddenly. “He’s not trying to impress you, by the way. He’s trying to impress Dad.”

“What?” Ginny said.

“Fine,” Harry said to Ron. “You go if you’re going to be a prat. The rest of us are just fine here.”

Ron stood up and looked between Ginny and Hermione. “Let’s go.”

Hermione got up hesitantly. “I really think we should—” she started to say.

“I’ll babysit these two,” Ginny said to Hermione. “You two should go.”

“I’m not leaving you with this—” Ron began.

“What’s he going to do? Snark at me?”

Malfoy snorted, and Ron glared at him.

“Just go,” Ginny said. “We’ll find you later.”

“C’mon, Ron,” Hermione said.

Ron cast one furious glance at Malfoy, and then he and Hermione went to find somewhere else to sit in the pub.

Harry’s smile recovered, and he pulled out a muggle coin. “Do you know Truth or Dare?” he asked Malfoy.

“Merlin, what are you? Thirteen?” Malfoy said. “I dare you run out into the street starkers, Potter. Just give me a minute to contact _The Daily Prophet_.”

“No, I don’t mean—” Harry groaned. “Okay, look, no dares. I just flip a coin and you try to call it. Call it right, and you’re safe. Wrong, and I get to ask you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. Then that’s it, and it’s your turn.”

“My turn to what? Interrogate Weasley?”

“You two can play with each other,” Ginny said. “I’m sitting this out.” 

“C’mon, Gin,” Harry said. “It’ll be fun.”

Ginny sighed. Fighting Harry was more trouble than it was worth. “Fine, but I’m out if he starts asking me weird shit.” She didn’t really know what to expect from Malfoy, but she was sure he’d know plenty of buttons to press to wind her up if he wanted to.

“Oh, I know!” Harry said brightly. “How’s this? If you want to reverse the order, you can ask for a second coin flip. Get it right, and we switch directions, and you get to ask a question right away. Wrong, and you have to answer another.”

“Genius, Potter,” Malfoy said without any enthusiasm. “Heads. Go on, Potter, let’s get your drinking-free drinking game over with.”

“Oh, er, right, you drink if—”

“I can drink without a coin directing me to.”

“Right. Fine.” Harry flipped the coin. Heads. Malfoy was safe.

“Go on, Weasley,” Malfoy said. He grabbed the coin and flipped it. When she lost the flip, he said, “What is your middle name?”

“Molly,” Ginny said. Then, without really knowing why or what she hoped to ask him, she said, “Flip it again. Tails.”

“Incorrect again, Weasley. Do you like Wales?”

“Yeah.” 

They continued around the circle until Malfoy lost his coin flip. “Do you wish I’d accepted your offer to be friends our first year?” Harry asked. 

“No,” Malfoy said. He took the coin and turned to Ginny. She got the first right but again lost when she tried for a second coin flip. “Which quidditch team do you support?”

“The Harpies,” Ginny said slowly. It felt like a trick question, but she couldn’t see what he could be tricking her about. 

They kept going around the circle. Harry seemed determined to ask Malfoy deep, personal questions, which Malfoy always responded to curtly. Malfoy, on the other hand, kept asking Ginny simple questions which revealed nothing personal at all. Ginny borrowed several of his to ask Harry rather than think of any herself. Finally, Ginny managed to win the second flip and reverse the order. 

“What do you put on your chips?” Ginny asked. Maybe she had meant to ask something more personal, but it somehow felt wrong after all of Malfoy’s shallow ones.

“Curry sauce, obviously,” Malfoy said. When Harry lost his flip, Malfoy asked, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Red,” Harry said. “Flip again.” But Harry lost again. 

“What house were you sorted into at Hogwarts?”

“You already know that.”

“Well-spotted.”

“C’mon, you have to ask _real_ questions.”

“Fine, here’s a real question: are you under the delusion that my presence in a muggle pub is born out of some sort of desire to make amends for my prior choices? Because I can assure you, I only came here with the hope of having sex with a complete stranger who won’t ask me about my childhood choices. I am not sorry for what I did, and I am certainly not _friends_ with muggles, Potter.”

A tense silence fell between them, filled with the roaring sounds of the pub all around them, but it was short lived. 

“Drake!” A young woman Ginny didn’t recognise said as she swooped in to give Malfoy a hug. “Sorry I’m late. New friends?” She slid into the seat beside Malfoy and smiled at Harry and Ginny. 

“No, er…” Malfoy said. He seemed to be struggling to hide the panic on his face. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” She was definitely a muggle. Everything from her hijab down to her trainers seemed perfectly muggle—torn-up black jeans, a shirt that was almost certainly handmade that said “riot grrrl,” and make-up that reminded Ginny of a toned down version of The Weird Sisters. 

“It’s fine,” Malfoy said. “They’re…” He shut his eyes for a moment. “Just people I went to school with. C’mon, let’s go dance.” He stood up and held out his hand to his friend.

She stood up too and took his hand, but she cast a glance back at Harry and Ginny and said something quietly to Malfoy. Malfoy looked at Ginny, and then said something to his friend. She whispered back. 

Eventually, they stopped whispering, and Malfoy’s friend looked at Ginny and smiled. “Mahnoor.” She held out her hand. 

“Oh, er, I’m Ginny,” Ginny said, taking Mahnoor’s hand, “and this is my friend Harry.” 

Mahnoor held her gaze, and Ginny found herself smiling back. Then Ginny came to her senses suddenly and jerked her hand away, sure that she’d held on too long and too tightly. This was a gay pub, she reminded herself. Holding some girl’s hand and staring into her eyes almost certainly counted at flirting here.

“Do either of you dance?” Mahnoor said. 

“Oh, no,” Ginny said, “this isn’t really my kind of—”

Mahnoor laughed and gestured to her outfit. “Do I look like corny pop songs and meaningless dance music is my kind of music? The least they could do is play some Green Day or something. I’m not even asking for Bikini Kill, just some mainstream punk rock.”

“I know a solution,” Malfoy said.

“Oh, shut up,” Mahnoor said. She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Don’t even say it.” She looked back at Ginny and Harry. “Well, suit yourselves, but if you change your mind…” She gestured toward the dance floor, and then she took Malfoy’s hand and pulled him away with her.

Ginny took one look at Harry, eyes still on Malfoy and groaned. “Merlin, Harry,” she said, “don’t even think about it. Let’s go find Ron and Hermione.”

“But—” Harry began.

“Ron was _terrified_ to come here, Harry. He needs you. If you really need a heart to heart with Malfoy, just write him a letter or something.”

Harry took one last look at Malfoy and finally gave in. “Yeah, okay, you’re right.” 

They found Ron and Hermione in a corner. Ron was irritable and sulking, but he cheered up considerably once their conversation moved on from Malfoy. Harry kept looking over in Malfoy’s direction every so often until Ginny kicked him hard enough that he swore and finally gave up on watching Malfoy. By the time they left, Harry had his arms around Ron, singing a friendlier, revised version of “Weasley Is Our King” to wind him up, and Ron was so red his hair had started to look brown in comparison.

But he’d survived. He’d spent hours in a gay pub, a public place where anyone might reasonably assume he could be gay, and he’d survived. As had Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yeah, the past week has been... a lot. I would like to say I'll have some extra content up to distract, but my focus is shot. So no official change to the schedule (still another chapter next Monday for sure), but... I might get more out. We'll see what happens.
> 
> Take care of yourselves. Take breaks from the news. It'll be there (often with handy summaries) when you're ready to look again. Look at cute animal videos or flowers or whatever brings joy to your heart when you find this stuff is too much to deal with. You deserve to feel peace, so please be sure to claim some for yourself even in the midst of all of this. 
> 
> <3


	8. Saaandwiches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warnings: references to sexual assault (nothing happens, just mentioned), mention of canon character death, references to the war and such, post-traumatic stress tbh, hurt animal (barely, it’s fine), cat scratch, mention of bodily fluid (dog pee, dog slobber), just some general heavy stuff/unpacking mental health issues, mood-altering substance use (legal, magical)

> Monday, 14 February 2000. Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Evening.

“Love Potions? You still sell Love Potions?” Ginny asked, waving a pink bottle in front of her brother George’s face. “I don’t even know how these things are legal.”

“Enjoying the Valentine’s display, little sister?” George asked. He was clearly not taking her complaint seriously. “If you’re looking for a gift for that special someone—”

“I’m not.”

“—might I suggest—”

“ _George._ ” Ginny held the bottle closer to his face. “I told you to stop selling these.”

“It’s good business.”

“Your good business is a miniature Imperius Curse. How’d you feel if some bloke slipped me this and tried to take advantage of me?”

“Ooh, good idea,” Ron said, grabbing the bottle from Ginny as he walked over. “We should get a few of these.”

“Good idea?” Ginny practically shrieked. “Are you mad? Have you somehow forgotten about when you were slipped a love potion?”

“Oh, no, they’re—”

George flung a hand over Ron’s mouth. “Shh, don’t spoil the fun, Ron,” he said. He grinned at Ginny. “They’re perfectly harmless. I’d never _dream_ of selling something dangerous. What would Percy say?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at Ron. “Does this mean you’re ready then?” 

“Yeah, let me just grab a few more of these,” Ron said. He waved the love potion.

“Merlin, I don’t even want to know.” Ginny shook her head, but she trusted Ron enough not to bother arguing. “I’m going to go tell Rhianna to come join us after her shift.”

“Meet you there.”

Ginny waved goodbye to her brothers and then made the short walk over to Flourish and Blotts. She found Rhianna at the counter and waited for her to finish ringing up a customer before walking up.

“When are you off?” Ginny asked without introduction.

“Hiya, Ginny,” Rhianna said. “Dunno, maybe an hour? Why?”

“Come over to Ron’s when you’re done. It’s Valentine’s Day; you shouldn’t be stuck sitting home alone.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to pass.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve got a hot date with a good book.”

“Bring your hot date then. We can’t have a party if it’s just me and Ron.”

“Sorry, Ginny. I have spent my entire shift looking forward to going home tonight.”

“You still haven’t even met Gruffydd properly.”

“Another time, Ginny. I already promised my blankets I’d come curl up under them as soon as I finished work.”

“Bring your blankets.”

“I’m really sorry, Ginny.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m just tired. Bring Gruffydd over some other time, okay? Today’s just not the day.”

“Ugh, fine, be sad and lonely.”

“You’re sweet, but I’m really okay.”

“Ready?” Ron said. He had just walked up to the counter. “Where’s that mutt of yours, by the way? I thought you were bringing him.”

“He’s in your room,” Ginny said. “I dropped him off first.”

“What!?”

“It’s fine, Ron. I told him to be good.” Ginny fought back a laugh, but it came out anyway. 

“He pees on things!”

“But she told him to be good,” Rhianna said with a laugh. “Perfectly fine.”

“Let’s go,” Ron said. He grabbed Ginny’s arm and started pulling her. 

“Come over,” Ginny called to Rhianna as she was dragged out. “Stop being sad!”

Rhianna just laughed and waved. 

As soon as they were in the street, Ron apparated them both to his flat and rushed to his room. 

“I swear that bloody beast—” Ron said as he went. But he stopped as soon as he opened the door. 

Gruffydd was right where Ginny left him: curled up in a pile of her blankets, fast asleep. He didn’t even look up when Ron flung the door open. 

“I made sure to wear him out first, you knob,” Ginny said. “C’mon, let’s go crash Hermione’s date with paperwork.”

Ron narrowed his eyes at Gruffydd. “Mutt,” he said. He took one last look at the sleeping dog and then closed the door again. “Hermione then Harry.”

Harry and Hermione both took some convincing, but Ginny and Ron managed to pull both of them away from work eventually. Hermione had some report that she swore was urgent but absolutely could wait, and Harry was obsessing over some case that wasn’t going to be solved by his furious pacing anyway. While Hermione stopped by her house, Ron and Harry attempted to clean the flat a bit, and Ginny took Gruff out on a quick walk before he tried peeing in the flat. 

When she returned, it was to find Hermione had arrived—with Crookshanks. As soon as Gruffydd spotted the cat, he tore off after him, barking furiously. Harry quickly scooped Crookshanks up before Gruffydd could reach him. 

“You leave Crookshanks alone!” Ron told Gruff. 

Ginny grabbed the scruff of Gruffydd’s neck and tried to pull him away from Harry and Crookshanks. “Crookshanks doesn’t want to play with you,” she told the dog. 

“Hermione, you’ve got to do something about this cat!” Harry said. He was struggling to keep hold of the squirming Crookshanks. 

“Oh, put him down,” Hermione called from the kitchen. 

“They’re trying to kill each—OW!” Harry yelped and dropped Crookshanks. 

Gruffydd pulled free of Ginny’s grip, bounded excitedly after him, and then yelped just as loudly as Harry had when Crookshanks swiped his snout. He tucked his tail between his legs and hurried back to Ginny, whimpering pathetically. 

“See?” Harry cried, massaging his cheek where Crookshanks had scratched him. “Your cat’s hurt Ginny’s puppy, Hermione!”

“He’s fine,” Ginny said. “He’s just upset Crookshanks doesn’t want to play.” She healed the tiny scratches on his snout. “Isn’t that right, Gruff?”

Gruffydd whined sadly and threw his weight against Ginny’s leg. Crookshanks stalked past them, tail high. Gruff cowered away, but the cat just hopped up on the sofa and curled up on one of the pillows. He didn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned about Gruffydd. 

“So is this just today, Harry?” Hermione asked as she walked into the room and set a tray of tea down on the coffee table. She rolled up her sleeves and took out her wand, eyes on the pile of post covering most of the table. 

“I’ve got a system,” Harry said. He gave Crookshanks one distrustful glance and sat himself back down on the sofa next to Ron, who was whispering words of encouragement and praise to the cat for scratching Gruffydd. 

“Well, your system is starting to leak onto the table.” Hermione poked her wand at one of the letters, and some sort of purple ooze seeped out of the corner. 

“Ooh, let’s read Harry’s post,” Ron said. He slipped off the sofa and knelt in front of the coffee table, wand at the ready. 

“I said I’ve got a system!” Harry said. He hopped up and tried to shoo Ron and Hermione away. 

“Is that why there’s a letter from Bill underneath the oozing letter?” Hermione asked.

“What?” Harry flicked the oozing letter away and pulled the one from Bill out of the pile. 

Hermione looked at him pointedly. 

“Oh, fine, you can sort my post,” Harry said.

“And read the fan mail?” Ron asked with a grin. “Half of this is just today, so I bet you’ve got some valentines.”

Harry just groaned and sat himself back down on the couch. Crookshanks got up and settled into Harry’s lap. Harry sighed. 

“Oh, we should do the potions first,” Ron said. He summoned the bag from George’s shop and pulled out four ghastly pink bottles of the so-called love potion. 

“Love potions?” Hermione said with a healthy dose of scepticism. She took one of the bottles and read the back. 

“Yeah, but they’re—well, it’s better if you don’t know, but it’ll be a good laugh.” He poured out four cups of tea and handed one to Hermione. “Pour some in. We’ll switch up the cups.” He opened one of the bottles and poured some into one of the cups. 

Hermione finished reading and sighed. She shook her head, but she poured some into the cup Ron had handed her anyway. 

“C’mon, you two need to do it too,” Ron said as he gave Harry and Ginny each a cup and a bottle of the potion. 

Harry and Ginny exchanged an uncertain glance, but Ginny decided that if Hermione (who had actually read all the tiny text on the bottle) was willing to do it, it couldn’t be that bad. At the very least, it couldn’t be an actual love potion.

With all four cups mixed with potion, Ron took them back, scrambled the cups out of sight, and then held the tray out to Hermione. “Pick one,” he said. “And just one sip when it cools so we can all have a go at whoever’s potion you’ve got.”

Hermione took one, followed by Harry, then Ginny, and finally Ron. No one drank anything. Ginny certainly didn’t want to be the first to try whatever weird joke her brother was selling as a “love potion,” and she suspected Hermione and Harry felt the same. 

Instead, Ron and Hermione started poking through the pile of post, careful not to touch anything with their hands. As Ginny watched, Gruffydd tried to climb into her lap, so she slipped off her chair and onto the floor. She didn’t let him actually sit in her lap—he was far too big for that already—but he seemed satisfied with just his head and front paws on her. 

Ron kept reading out his favourite lines from Harry’s fan mail, barely able to contain his laughter at lines like “eyes like the rolling hills of spring” and strangers proclaiming their love for the hero of the wizarding world. “Oh, this ones from a bloke,” he said as skimmed through another. “Harry, you’ve got gay fans!”

“Well, he’s got just as much chance as all the others,” Harry said. “None.”

Ron laughed. “Dunno, mate, he’s promised to keep it secret between you two.”

“Oh, good, that’s at least twice as appealing.”

“A shame two times zero is still zero,” Hermione said. 

The three of them laughed. 

When there were only a few letters left (Hermione had taken to burning any letter Harry didn’t want, which was nearly all of them), Harry leapt to his feet suddenly, eyes wide. Crookshanks hissed and spat at Harry for knocking him down, but Harry paid him no mind. Instead, he grinned and, without warning, bolted from the room. 

“Is he singing?” Hermione asked. 

He was. It didn’t seem to be any song Ginny knew, but it also sounded like Harry was making it up as he went. 

“What’s with him?” Ginny asked. But before anyone else could answer, Harry hurried back into the room, still humming his improvised tune, and set a tray full of sandwiches on the coffee table. 

“I love sandwiches,” Harry announced, half-singing. “Have you ever thought about how fantastic sandwiches are?” He grabbed one and took far too large of a bite that muffled his next attempts at speaking. 

“Is this what you think of me?” Ron asked, cheeks quickly turning pink. 

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. 

“You can put anything inside them!” Harry said. “Anything at all!” He grabbed one of the sandwiches and held it out to Ginny. “Look! I made you a happiness sandwich!”

“A what?” Ginny asked. She took the sandwich and opened it up. It was filled with chocolate and sweets. 

“Happiness!”

Gruff lifted his head and sniffed at the sandwich, but Ginny lifted it up out of his reach. 

“Er, thanks?” Ginny said to Harry. 

“You’re welcome!” Harry said. Then he twirled and returned to his tray of sandwiches, humming some more. 

“I didn’t realise you were such a fan of sandwiches, Ronald,” Hermione laughed. 

“I’m not!” Ron said. “He’s taking the piss.”

“Saaandwiches,” Harry sang, “fill them up with your favourite things!”

Hermione was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Ginny felt like she’d missed the joke somewhere. She couldn’t understand why on earth Harry had suddenly decided to start singing about sandwiches, even if he was just trying to wind Ron up. At least Gruffydd seemed as confused as Ginny. 

Then, just as suddenly as Harry had leapt up, he stopped. He blinked a couple times and dropped the sandwich he’d been twirling around with (Gruff snapped it up before Ginny could stop him), and then his cheeks turned a faint pink. “Sorry,” Harry said quietly. 

Ron laughed once, and then Harry laughed a little, and then they both started laughing. 

“Sandwiches, Harry!” Ron said through his laughter. “Of all things!” 

“Well, I’m sorry!” Harry laughed. “I was thinking about dinner!”

Ron reached for his own cup of tea and took a sip. “I hope I got yours, and I hope it’s—” Ron’s eyes went wide suddenly, and he bounded straight over to Ginny, who scrambled back. “Gruffydd!” Ron said cheerfully. He took Gruff’s face in his hands and beamed. “Who’s a good boy?”

“I thought you hated that mutt, Ron,” Harry teased. 

Ron didn’t seem to hear him, too focused on Ginny’s dog, who seemed awfully confused by Ron’s sudden affection. 

“C’mon, let’s play!” Ron said. He got on his hands and knees and bent down into a play bow. Then he made an attempt at some sort of growl and batted at Gruff. 

Gruff looked at Ginny as if she might somehow explain what had gotten into her brother. 

“It’s okay, Gruff,” she said. “I think he likes you.” Ginny summoned one of Gruff’s toys and gave it to Ron.

Gruff looked at the toy uncertainly for a moment and then bit down on his end and played with Ron for the first time. 

Ron looked like he was having the time of his life, far more fun than even Gruffydd. He kept cooing at Gruff (“Who’s a good boy, taking care of my sister? Yeah, you’re a good boy, Gruffydd!”), congratulating him on how strong he was, and eventually dropped the toy to enthusiastically rub Gruff’s fur. As soon as the toy was out of Ron’s hands, Gruff dropped it and started slobbering all over Ron’s face as if they’d always been the best of friends. Within seconds, they were both rolling on the floor together, Ron still praising Gruff as the dog licked at every inch of his face. 

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, Ron froze, eyes wide in horror. 

Ginny took one look at Harry and Hermione, and the three of them burst out laughing. Ron scrambled away from Gruff. 

“I still don’t trust you!” Ron told Gruffydd, but he didn’t sound very convincing. 

Gruff just sat down at Ron’s feet and looked up at him, tail wagging, a giant smile on his face. 

“Aww, Ron, he likes you now,” Ginny laughed. 

“Well, he shouldn’t get used to it. It was just the potion. I must’ve had yours.” 

“Nope, too late,” Ginny said. “He thinks you’re friends now.”

As if to illustrate her point, Gruffydd gave Ron’s hand one quick lick. 

Ron jerked his hand away in horror. “Crookshanks doesn’t like him!” he said. 

Crookshanks lifted his head and looked at Ron. 

“Well, you don’t, do you?” Ron said to the cat. “He’s all cute now, but—”

Crookshanks yawned, stretched, leapt from the sofa and landed in front of Gruffydd. Terrified, Gruffydd bolted over to Ginny and hid behind her legs, head in his paws. 

“It’s okay, Gruff,” Ginny said. She knelt down and stroked his fur. 

Crookshanks, not to be deterred, stalked himself over to Gruffydd, hopped onto his back, curled up, and began to purr. Gruffydd looked to Ginny for help, so she just scratched his ear to soothe him.

“I think Crookshanks approves, Ron,” Hermione said. 

Ron took one last suspicious look at Gruffydd and sighed. “Fiiine,” he groaned. “I think he’s adorable.”

“You were just worried he wouldn’t like you,” Ginny said. 

“I was just waiting for Crookshanks’ approval.” A total lie. “It’s your turn then. You’ve gotta have Harry’s or Hermione’s.”

Ginny looked over at the cup she’d grabbed sceptically. “Maybe later.” Hermione’s would be all right, but she didn’t want to find herself suddenly enamoured with something Harry loved. 

“Oh, c’mon, Harry and I have both done it!”

“What happens if you drink your own?” Hermione asked curiously. 

“Dunno,” Ron said. “We never tested that.”

“So if Ginny has Harry’s, I’m going to drink a completely untested potion?” 

“Oh, fine, I’ll go,” Ginny said. But instead of grabbing her own cup, she took Ron’s and had a sip. “Not untested anymore.” 

For a moment nothing happened. Then, as suddenly as Harry and Ron had reacted to their drinks, Ginny felt a sudden swell of pride. 

“I’m really making progress,” she said. It was incredible; she felt like she just had to tell everyone the news. “I haven’t lost my temper with Gruffydd in almost two weeks. My room is clean. I haven’t spent as much time hiding in my room as I used to. I even went out with some of the team the other night and actually joined the conversation a bit even though I was terrified to do it. I’ve been patient with Gruff, and he’s learned so much already, and I’ve been patient with myself too. I haven’t even cried over Astoria in a week.”

“What?” Harry said, but Ginny barely heard him.

“My therapist says I’m really making progress.” Ginny felt like she was so happy she might sing. “I’ve been working so hard to get better, and even if I’m not amazing yet, I’m getting there. I don’t feel as angry with myself all the time, and I’m not just sad all the time about Astoria either. I’m actually—” 

Ginny was cut off by Ron’s hand pressed tight against her mouth. He looked so serious and worried, but there was no need for that. Ginny was getting better!

Ginny pulled away and smiled at him. “It’s okay, Ron. I know I have a long way to go, but I’m okay! I’m doing it! I’m getting better. It’s me! It’s all me. Obviously you’re helping too, but look at me, Ron! I’m—”

The air seemed to leave her lungs suddenly. When it returned, she felt suddenly very aware of herself. The sudden burst of self-confidence was gone, but her words were still there. They were true. She felt tired, so she sat back down on the floor with Gruff and stroked his side. 

“You’re gay,” Harry said quietly. He looked at Ron and then Hermione. “You knew. You both knew!”

“Harry,” Hermione began, but she was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. 

“How’s the party?” Neville asked cheerfully as he walked in with Hannah. “Oh, is this your puppy, Ginny?” He came over, knelt down, and held his hand out for Gruff to sniff. 

“Did you know Ginny’s gay?” Harry asked sharply. 

“What?” Neville looked between Harry and Ginny, frowning. 

“Harry!” Ron snapped. 

“Everyone knows, don’t they?” Harry said, looking at Ginny furiously. “You never even fancied me, did you? The whole time you were really with her. You were—”

“Harry!” Ron bellowed, this time stepping in front of him and shoving him backwards.

Gruff, frightened by the noise, started barking and ran between Harry and Ron.

“She didn’t tell Neville, you prat,” Ron spat. “You can’t just go around—”

“But you knew!” Harry cried. “You and Hermione both knew, didn’t you? You’ve been keeping it from me. You’ve been letting me think that—”

“For once in your life,” Ron growled, “stop making everything about you. I’m the only person Ginny’s told, and she only told me last month. Don’t you dare make this harder on her, and for the love of Merlin, stop acting like we’re all against you. We’ve been there every bloody step of the way your whole life, and I’m really fucking tired of you acting like me and Hermione and Neville and everyone else have ever done anything but have your back. It’s not a fucking conspiracy, Harry. We’re your _friends_ , not Death Eaters.”

“Sorry,” Harry said quietly, and then he ran from the room.

Ron turned to Ginny, still looking furious. “I’m going to kill him. Sorry.” He sighed and tried to soften his expression.

Everyone was looking at her, waiting to see how she’d react. It made Ginny want to scream, but the memory of her own potion-induced words were still fresh in her mind. 

Ginny groaned and found a middle ground between her anger and the calmer Ginny she was trying to be. “Since it’s apparently everyone’s business now,” she said, “yes, I guess I probably fancy girls sometimes, but no, I wasn’t _faking_ fancying Harry.” She threw herself back onto the floor and stared up at the ceiling. “And no, I wasn’t with Astoria while I was dating Harry. I wasn’t ever with Astoria. I was a twat, and I’m really trying not to dwell on what an awful twat I was to her because it fucking sucks, and it’s even more shit because I also lost a good friend, and I could really do without losing more friends, universe.” Ginny sat up and looked at the others, all too stunned for words. She sighed. “I’m going to go talk to Harry.” She stood up and held out a hand to Gruff when he started to follow her. “Stay, Gruff.”

Ginny went down the hall, found Harry’s closed door, and knocked.

“I’m fine, Hermione,” Harry called through the door. “Go away.”

Ginny opened the door and looked at Harry, curled up into a ball on his bed. 

“Ginny,” he said when he saw her. “Ginny, I’m—”

“Oh, shut up,” Ginny said. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. 

Harry straightened himself up, trying to make himself look like he hadn’t just run off to his room to cry, but Ginny ignored him. Instead, she looked around his room. The chair in the corner looked like it had been broken and hastily repaired. There were news articles pinned all over one wall which Ginny suspected had to do with Harry’s work. There were a couple of old food containers on his desk and some of his clothes seemed to have missed his hamper, but it wasn’t really any messier than Ginny remembered his room. 

In fact, other than the wall covered in news clippings, it didn’t seem to have changed at all since the last time Ginny had been in here last July. There was still a Portree scarf hanging from the door. Old photos of their friends, the photos the Creeveys had given Harry at Colin’s funeral, a smiling photo of his parents—they were all still there on the walls. Even the remains of Harry’s old Firebolt were still lying in the corner, shattered in the midst of their fight last Easter. Barely anything had changed at all. 

“I owe you an apology, Harry,” Ginny said finally.

“Don’t,” Harry said. “It’s me. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”

“Harry.”

He sighed. “Fine, but—”

“I lied to you.”

“What?”

“When we broke up last summer, I told you I wanted to be friends. That was a lie.”

“Oh, thanks for letting me know. If that’s all then—”

“Would you for once just listen to me, Harry?”

“Whatever. Go ahead.”

“We haven’t been friends for years, ever since the three of you left my sixth year. I knew you’d leave, so I thought I should be fine with it, but I wasn’t, and I’m not. I was angry then. I was angry when you came back. Every single time we’ve been in a fight, part of why I’m angry is because you left me. I just wanted you to stay—or take me with you. If you had just told me you were going without me because of the Trace, I would have understood. But you always have to be the hero, and I always have to be the stupid little girl who was too weak and pathetic and hurt and angry to withstand Riddle.”

“Ginny, that’s not—”

“Shut up! I’m not done apologising!” Ginny caught herself and took a breath. She spun her patronus ring three times and tried to lower her voice. “I’ve been furious with you for years because I’m furious with myself. Every time I look at you, I just see everything wrong with me. I hate myself, and I hate that you can’t fix that. You’re supposed to be able to fix anything, Harry. You’re The Chosen One, and I chose you first. Why can’t you fix me? I don’t want to fight myself just to get out of my fucking bed and be patient with the innocent animal who wants nothing more than to love me. I don’t want to think a good day is any day I don’t snap at someone. I don’t want everyone I care about watching their words with me because everyone knows that if you say one wrong thing, I’ll be awful for a week at least. I don’t want to be me, and I want you to fix that!”

Ginny wiped tears off her face and forced out a breath.

“So I’m sorry for holding you to an unreasonable standard and making you my scapegoat,” she said. “I’m sorry to you, and I’m sorry to Astoria, and I’m sorry to everyone else who has been collateral damage because I don’t know how to… I don’t even know. Exist? Let go? Solve problems without punching, hexing, or screaming? I’m trying. That doesn’t make up for how horribly I’ve treated you for years now, and I understand why you feel hurt. It’s not your fault though. It’s mine, and I am so sorry.”

Ginny looked back at the pile of splinters in the corner, and a sudden thought occurred to her. “Can I take that?” she asked him.

Harry looked between her and the remains of his broom for a moment. Then he stood up suddenly and strode angrily over to the pile. “It’s rubbish. It can’t be fixed. I should just throw it out.” He conjured a bag, knelt down and started tossing the pieces into it.

“Harry,” Ginny said as gently as she could. She pulled him away and back to his feet. Ginny’s insides tightened as she realised just how close he was standing to her, alone in his bedroom. He looked furious, but he also looked scared and confused, so instead of pulling away, Ginny wrapped her arms around him and hugged him for the first time since they broke up.

Harry froze, arms held awkwardly at his sides. When Ginny didn’t let go though, he eventually gave in and hugged her back hesitantly.

“I did really have feelings for you,” she said. She let go of him and looked at him seriously. “And I really am sorry.”

Harry looked at the ground, sighed, and then returned to his bed, hugging his knees to his chest. “Take it,” he said. “I don’t want it. Your dad’s right: I’ve just been stuck in the past, refusing to let go. I can’t let go of that pile of rubbish. I can’t let go of Malfoy. I can’t let go of you. I’m glad you’re doing better, Ginny, and I wish I knew how to do that, but I’m just not made for this. My whole life was beating Riddle, and now there’s nothing. It’s the only thing I ever had. I’m happy for everyone else. I want this. It’s better. I want everyone to be happy and safe. I just… don’t think I’m supposed to be part of it.”

“Maybe you’re just not ready yet.”

“What?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t really feel like there’s any place for someone as awful as me in all this either. But no one’s happy with me hiding out in my room away from everyone else, so I have to try. Maybe I don’t belong here now, but maybe there’s some future version of Ginny who does. And maybe there’s a future version of Harry who has a place in all this. I think I want there to be.” She looked at what used to be Harry’s Firebolt. “I know it’ll never fly again, but I’m the one who broke it. Let me… Let me just try something, okay? If you hate it, you can throw it out.”

“It was an accident, Ginny.”

“Please, Harry.”

“Yeah, fine, take it.”

Ginny put the remaining pieces into the bag, tied the bag, and set it down by his door. “I want to be friends, Harry. Actual friends. I think it’s still going to take time for me to forgive myself enough to actually be a good friend to you, but I’m trying. And whatever is going on with you… I know I’m not really the person to help you through all that because I can barely even help myself, but I hope you’ll try too. We’ll get there. Our friends need us to get there.”

Then, without waiting for a reply, Ginny opened the door, picked up the bag, and left Harry’s room. The others all had questions for her, but she waved them all away.

“I’m exhausted,” she said. “Gruff and I are going to go home.” 

She said goodbyes to everyone, and then she lit the fire, stepped in, and held on tight to Gruffydd as they flew across Britain back to Wales. She took Gruff out to potty, dried his coat, and followed him as he tore down the hall and into her room.

When she stepped into the room, Gruffydd was sitting on her bed, tail wagging, holding something in his mouth for Ginny. She shut the door and took the thing (which turned out to be some sort of flyer) out of Gruff’s mouth. It seemed to be advertising something called an “open mic night” next Wednesday, whatever that meant. It looked like a muggle thing, which only made it weirder that it had, presumably, been in her room. She flipped it over and saw four words scrawled across the back in a vaguely familiar handwriting:

_Music — Mahnoor is playing_

Ginny stared at the words. Mahnoor. The girl from Admiral Duncan. Malfoy’s friend. This had to be Malfoy’s writing. That explained how a muggle flyer had made its way into her room, but it brought up several far more difficult and confusing questions with it. 

Ginny sighed and put the flyer on her nightstand. She was far too tired to even begin to think about what it meant. Those were questions for some future version of herself to answer. The current version of herself just needed sleep.

“I’m never going to have easy problems, am I, Gruff?” she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Harry's Firebolt was lost in the Battle of the Seven Potters. Guess you'll just have to wait for an explanation about that.


	9. Averford’s Assignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: Brief Riddle/diary stuff, discussion of mental health, mention of xenophobia/racism

Malfoy’s flyer nagged endlessly at the back of Ginny’s mind over the next two days. She had had only a few brief moments of bliss Tuesday morning before it caught her eye on her nightstand. After that, the swirl of questions was endless, distracting her in quidditch, pulling her focus away from conversations, keeping her up when she tried to sleep. When she did finally manage to sleep Tuesday night, she was greeted by the nagging questions made reality in dreams and nightmares of every scenario she could imagine.

Was Malfoy leading her into a trap, luring her deep into the muggle world as part of some sinister plan? Had he just been biding his time all along, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? What if it hadn’t been an accident that they’d run into him at Admiral Duncan, or that Mahnoor had shown up? In her nightmares, he cackled and sneered, capturing her loved ones in a series of cruel plots. His light hair turned black, his grey eyes turned red, and his laugh grew higher and higher until it was Riddle, manipulating her once again to attack her friends.

But then her nightmares would twist, and somehow Malfoy was among the friends Riddle was hurting, crying for Ginny to help him. _You never even gave him a chance_ , Rhianna kept berating her. _This is just like Astoria. You refused to give her a chance too._ And there was Astoria, vehemently denying there was any good in her even after Ginny had finally seen past her sneering façade. _I’m not friends with muggles_ , Malfoy had said, but Ginny’s brain kept putting the words in Astoria’s voice instead.

Ginny awoke on Wednesday exhausted but no closer to a decision than she had been Monday night when she first saw the flyer. Malfoy was a puzzle she couldn’t solve, and even if she had figured out what he was up to, she only ran into the next problem: Mahnoor. Or, rather, Ginny’s complete and utter cluelessness about dating and flirting with women. Had their brief handshake and eye contact in a gay pub counted as flirting of some sort? Would Mahnoor think Ginny was interested in her if she came to whatever performance she seemed to have tonight? Would she somehow find herself accidentally in a relationship she hadn’t ever meant to get into, purely because of her ignorance?

She couldn’t focus at all during practice Wednesday, and she eventually got sent home when she nearly fell off her broom for the third time. Pacing her flat did little to help her think though, so she gave up on letting her own brain decide and went instead to find the only person she thought would understand: Rhianna. 

Rhianna wasn’t at work though, and when Ginny tried going by her house, the floo was locked, and no one answered the door when she knocked. So she returned home and paced some more, venting her frustrations to Gruff. She was annoyed with Malfoy for sending it. She was annoyed with Rhianna for not being around. She was annoyed with Ron for how she assumed he’d respond (outrage that Malfoy had contacted her at all). And she was annoyed with herself.

She wanted to go. Whatever worries she had about Malfoy, she was lonely. She had friends, but she felt obligated to be a better person around them. If she snapped at Malfoy though, what did it matter? He had done nothing to earn her kindness or patience. She owed him nothing, and simply giving him the benefit of the doubt and showing up was far more than he deserved. As much as she hated the thought, she found the idea of spending an evening with Malfoy far more appealing than one with her own loved ones. She wanted company without having to worry about hurting someone.

Whatever. It was fucked up, but she wanted to go, and it wasn’t like Malfoy could do anything to her in the muggle world. She pulled on some muggle-safe clothes, slipped the flyer in her pocket, and led Gruffydd to the fire so she could leave him at the Burrow for the evening.

But when Ginny stepped into the fire and called Gruffydd to follow her, he just sat down and barked.

“C’mon, Gruff, we’re going to go see Dad. Don’t you want to see Dad?”

Gruff barked again, louder. Ginny reached for his collar, but he ran back to her room. 

“Gruff!” Ginny called. “I can’t leave you here!”

Bark, bark. Gruff had hopped up on her bed and seemed ready to bolt if Ginny got any closer.

“What is your deal today?” Ginny took out her wand so she could get a leash on him, but Gruff howled miserably at the mere sight. “I’m not going to hurt you!” 

Gruff jumped off the bed, put his front paws on Ginny’s stomach, and barked.

“What? You think I shouldn’t go?” Ginny pushed him down and crossed her arms. “I’ve been asking you for your opinion for two days and you wait until I’m about to leave to tell me no?”

Gruff turned away and started sniffing at the floor.

“Oh, Merlin, don’t pee. C’mon, let’s go outside.”

But Gruff ignored her and started pawing at her dresser.

“I’m starting to think Ron was right about you,” Ginny said as she pulled open the drawer he was pawing at. “You’re not a normal dog at all.”

Gruff pressed his snout into the drawer and dug through her things until he found what he was looking for: a plush dragon Ginny had shoved in the drawer the night she’d met Gruff to keep him from chewing it. He dropped it at her feet, sat on his haunches, and looked up at her expectantly.

“That’s not a toy, Gruff!” She grabbed it, put it back in the drawer, and closed it. “You’ve got plenty of other toys.” She summoned a toy cat Harry had sent when he’d heard Ginny got a puppy. “See? We can take this one.”

But Gruff barked and started pawing at the drawer again.

“I don’t know what you want, Gruff.”

As if he had somehow understood her, he stopped barking and cocked his head to the side. 

“Should I get you letter blocks? Then you can spell out whatever it is you're on about.”

Gruff gave one short bark, as if he approved of her idea, and then he went to her wardrobe. Horrifyingly, he managed to open it all on his own, and a moment later, he pulled out the jumper Ginny’s mum had made her for Christmas. 

“Do I need to start locking my wardrobe, or are you just going to somehow figure out how to unlock magic locks too?” Ginny picked the jumper up and put it on. “There, happy? Now Malfoy can have a good laugh at my jumper, and Mahnoor can think I’m a little mamma’s girl.”

Gruff howled miserably, laid down, and put his head between his paws.

“ _What?_ ” Ginny cried. She groaned and sat down with him. “Okay, I won’t go. Will that make you happy?”

Gruff cheered up instantly. He gave Ginny’s cheek a quick lick, and then he got up again and pulled the drawer back open with his teeth. Ginny gave up; she’d invited a giant, intelligent baby to live with her, and this was the price she had to pay. Instead of fighting him, she just watched as he grabbed random objects and started piling them in front of her. The plush dragon, a book Hermione had gotten her a couple Christmases ago, her dirty quidditch robes, a necklace Luna had given her that was supposed to ward off nargles—

“All right, all right,” Ginny sighed. “I get it. I have plenty of friends already. Put this away.”

Gruff just sat down and looked at her.

“Oh, good, going to play dumb, are you? Put your toys away. I know you know how.”

Of course he didn’t do it. He was smart and quickly learned any command Ginny tried to teach him, including putting his toys away in their box, but he was stubborn and willful and only listened when he felt like it. Tonight, he clearly felt like arguing with Ginny, and Ginny was far too tired from wrestling with indecision to fight him, so she put it all back away herself.

“I’m going to Diagon Alley again,” she told him as she put magical locks on all her doors and drawers. “Since you’re so concerned I’m ignoring my friends and family, I’m going to write a letter.” Ginny gasped dramatically, as if she was reacting to her own story. “I know. We talked about this, Gruff. I can’t talk to Luna if I can’t write letters, and you don’t have thumbs to hold a quill, so I’m just going to have to try a dictation quill. Be good. I’ll be quick.”

Malfoy kept nagging at the back of her mind the rest of the evening, but she busied herself with learning how to use the new quill she’d bought and writing Charlie a long letter about her insane dog who seemed to be getting smarter every day. If anyone would understand an insane animal and have some smart advice for raising one, it was Charlie. 

Dictating a letter was weird, and her skin felt crawly while she did it, but she had Gruff. He cuddled up beside her and kept her from focusing too much on the letter and the eerie sight of the quill scratching across the parchment. When she ran out of things to say to her brother, she folded up the letter and stuffed it into an envelope so she could give it to one of the team owls tomorrow. 

Ginny felt a sudden rush of relief as she looked at the envelope. She’d done it: she’d written a letter. It was mostly aimless rambling about Gruffydd, but it was more than just a brief, terse, emotionless yes or no response to something. And better yet, she found that, even though curiosity still nagged at her a bit, she was glad she’d stayed home to write the letter. If she’d gone out with Malfoy, it wouldn’t have stopped her feelings of guilt for having neglected her friends and family for so long. Maybe it was even kinder to him that she hadn’t gone and used him as an outlet for whatever pent-up frustration she had. For once, she felt like she’d made the unambiguously right choice.

Over the coming weeks and months, Malfoy’s invitation faded from Ginny’s mind as she slowly found herself more and more caught up in the present and the lives of her loved ones. She helped her mum and George plan a surprise party for Ron’s birthday with all of his friends. She took Gruff on long walks along the coast and watched the bright yellow daffodils announce the arrival spring. She learned to swear in Polish and what Jones was really saying when she’d switch to Welsh and seemingly swear their opponents to high heaven. (It was usually some variation on “not worth a sheep’s fart,” which Ginny took to saying in English because she found it so funny.) 

The Harpies were having a bit of a rough season, including a particularly embarrassing 440-90 loss to the Wasps, but Ginny was too relieved at finally feeling like part of the team to let it get her down. She still had deep wounds that she knew would take a long time to fully heal, but she felt _alive_. She had survived a particularly hard, lonely winter, and spring had finally arrived.

So it was with only a tinge of dread that Ginny received the news that Teresa Averford, manager of the Harpies and all-around terrifyingly powerful woman, had requested Ginny come to her office one day in early April. 

Ginny was sure she knew what it was about. After their loss to the Wasps, a reporter Ginny didn’t recognise tried asking Ginny if they’d lost because the other Harpies chasers “didn’t speak English,” to which Ginny had replied by swearing at him in Polish and calling him a “racist fuck” before Jones and Son managed to pull her away. It was front page news the next day, but Ginny didn’t really regret it. Sure, she could have handled it better, but it had been a stupid question. Averford probably wouldn’t bench her for it. She probably just wanted to sternly tell Ginny off for acting unprofessionally and would just give Ginny a temporary ban from talking to the press. Not like Ginny minded—press was her least favourite part of quidditch.

Sure it wouldn’t be awful, Ginny knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

“Miss Weasley,” Averford said when the door opened. She was sitting behind her desk, wand pointed casually at the door. She stood up and stepped around the desk to offer Ginny a polite handshake. 

“Ms. Averford,” Ginny said as she shook the woman’s hand, “you asked to see me?”

“Yes, please, sit.” She gestured to a pair of armchairs in one corner of the office. “I have some things to discuss with you.”

Ginny did as instructed while her previous nonchalance was quickly swept away by the quiet panic that always seemed to grip her when she was in Averford’s presence. Averford took the other armchair and leaned back. Ginny became self-conscious of her uncrossed legs, her poor posture, her unbrushed hair. She straightened up and tried to look like less of a disheveled mess, wishing desperately that she’d thought to shower before coming here. She was gross and sweaty, and Averford could probably smell her. 

“How have you found your first season with the Harpies?” Averford said, her voice as smooth as ever. She gave a graceful flick of her wand, and a tray of hot tea floated over and settled between them, as if resting on an invisible table. “Tea?”

“Er, thanks,” Ginny said as she took the cup in front of her. She didn’t know why Averford was wasting time on pleasantries—it wasn’t like her at all—but Ginny stuttered her way through a response. “Quidditch has been good. I mean, great. I mean, er, it’s been fantastic, really. I—”

“Any issues? Problems with teammates or staff? Difficulties with housing? Struggles—”

“No, nothing. Everything has been perfect. Everyone’s brilliant.” Ginny couldn’t think of a single complaint about the team. Her only complaints were the occasional awful questions from tabloid reporters, and even those rarely got to her lately. The question after the Wasps’ match only got to her because it had been a long, demoralising match of mistake after mistake on the Harpies’ part, and she’d taken the implication that being born in England made her better than her teammates personally.

“Excellent.” Averford paused only briefly, but Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. With another graceful flick of her wand, Averford summoned a clipboard and handed it to Ginny. “It has come to my attention that your passport expired, so I took the liberty of having my assistant complete all the necessary paperwork for you. You just need to sign.” She pointed to the clipboard. “I believe he’s marked all the places you need to sign to make it easier for you.”

“Er, right.” Ginny picked up the self-inking quill attached to the clipboard and began flipping through the many sheets to sign off on everything. “Are we playing in the Euro Cup this year?” Ginny set the quill down and handed the clipboard back to Averford.

“Thank you.” She sent the clipboard through a slot in the wall which Ginny suspected went to her assistant, and then she picked up a cup of tea for herself and sipped at it slowly. 

Ginny felt herself tensing again. Was that it? Was Averford done with her? Was she supposed to take Averford leisurely tea sipping as her cue to go and stop wasting Averford’s valuable time? Ginny couldn’t see why Averford would have summoned Ginny to her office for something that could have easily been handled by her assistant though, and dread twisted in her gut at the thought that Averford was _prepping_ for whatever the real reason was.

Finally, after what had surely been several torturous minutes and not just a few seconds, Averford set down her cup and looked at Ginny seriously. “Miss Weasley,” she said, “what is your relationship with Astoria Greengrass?”

Ginny choked on her own tea and managed to spray it all over herself. “Sorry.”

With a simple swish, Averford cleaned up the mess Ginny had made and looked at her, waiting for an answer.

“Er, we’re… friends?” Ginny lied, heart racing. 

“Are you?” She sounded curious rather than accusatory.

“Yes, ma’am. Since my fourth year.”

“How close would you say you are with Miss Greengrass?”

“Er…” Ginny hadn’t a clue how to answer the question without digging herself only deeper in her lie. She had assumed Averford was just checking that offering Astoria a spot with the Harpies wouldn’t be a problem for Ginny, given _The Prophet_ ’s awful stories after the war that Astoria had somehow hoodwinked Ginny and others into testifying in her defence.

“When was the last time you spoke with her?”

“Er, well, we’ve both been really busy, and—”

“Please, Miss Weasley, this is not a trial. I’m just trying to assess the situation.”

“Er, what situation?”

“As you may be aware, your friend is a talented quidditch player, and she will be finishing at Hogwarts in a few months. I intend to hire her in August. However—”

“That’s great,” Ginny said quickly, though her stomach seemed to have sunk all the way through the floor at the thought of facing all of, well, everything. “Astoria’s great.” Whatever her personal feelings, Ginny wasn’t going to stand in the way of Astoria’s future.

“I am glad you agree, but I have not asked you here for your personal opinion on my hiring decisions.”

“Er, sorry.”

“As I was saying, I intend to hire Miss Greengrass. However, her recent behaviour has given me reason to believe that she might not be receptive to any offer I make. As you are friends and you are so clearly enthusiastic about the idea, I hoped you might be able to help convince her that the Harpies have a great deal to offer her beyond what I can fit into a contract.”

Ice ran through Ginny’s whole body. “Er, I don’t think I can be of any help. Astoria and I don’t really talk very often anymore.”

“Let me rephrase myself. I am not asking you to convince Miss Greengrass. I am instructing you, as your employer, to do so.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Averford arched an eyebrow, a terrifying look on her face. “You have made zero effort.”

“We’re… not friends anymore.” Ginny’s chest felt tight. “We got into a fight last year. I was awful to her. Honestly, you should just fire me. She probably—”

“I will not be firing you,” Averford said sharply. “I am sending you on the Academy’s trip to Europe. You will be staying with Miss Greengrass, and you will solve whatever personal problems you might have. You have already signed your passport and visa applications as well as the contract agreeing to attend as an adult chaperone for the trip.”

“ _What?_ You made me—”

“I assumed you would actually read before signing, Miss Weasley. Surely a young woman raised in the wizarding world and with the experiences you’ve had would read before signing.” She waved her wrist lazily. “I haven’t cursed your contract. I have no intention of harming my own players, after all. If you refuse to go, you’ll pay only in galleons.”

“I’m not going then,” Ginny said firmly. 

If looks could kill, Ginny was sure Averford’s face would have slaughtered her. “No?” Averford said. “No, you will not go on a simple school trip and attempt to make amends with your friend?”

“I’m not going to manipulate her.”

“I am only asking you to be honest with her. Fix your relationship and be honest about your own experiences with the Harpies. Miss Greengrass can make her own choices. If you look at your contract, you will see that I am paying you for the opportunity to spend a week in Europe with an old friend. Or old friends, even. I believe Miss Creevey and Miss Cohen are both friends of yours too? And I’m sure many of the others who have been selected are as well. Do you not wish to spend a week in Europe with your friends?”

“Astoria will be happier if I don’t go,” Ginny said. “I don’t want to—”

“Miss Greengrass has already given her approval for your attendance.”

Ginny’s heart leapt. “She did?”

“I will give you until the end of the week to back out. Any later than that, and I may be forced to cancel the trip entirely as I will no longer have time to secure travel clearance for a replacement chaperone. Miss Greengrass has worked tirelessly to put the trip together, so I am sure you understand how important it is that everything goes ahead as planned.”

Ginny took a deep breath and dove straight in. “I’ll go,” she said firmly. “I won’t manipulate Astoria, and I’m not even going to make her talk to me, but I’ll at least go on the trip.”

Averford smiled. “Thank you, Miss Weasley. I do hope you enjoy the trip. I expect Miss Greengrass’ work will be no less than transformational for her fellow students.” She stood up and crossed back to her desk. “Perhaps you’ll find it as such as well.”

“Er, right.” Ginny stood up, uncertain if that meant she should leave now. “I’m sure it will be.”

“I’ll send a copy of your contract to your place of residence.” Averford took a folder out of her desk and opened it, no longer paying any mind to Ginny.

“Thank you.” Ginny took a step toward the door.

“Oh, and Miss Weasley?” Averford didn’t look up. “I’ve seen to it that the—what was it you said? The ‘racist fuck’ no longer has permission to enter any of the Harpies’ premises.” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love Teresa Averford.


	10. The Harbinger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mention of weight/implied weight loss
> 
> Pronunciation notes: Ciorstaidh (Scots Gaelic) is pronounced roughly like Kirsty (with a nice KEER sound, not kuhr). Etxepare (Basque) sounds sooorta like etch-eh-pah-deh. The tx is like the ch in choice, and the r is tapped more like a d in English. And finally, Alarcão (Portuguese) is mostly how it’s written, but the ão is a sort of nasal-y “ow” sound.

Ginny spent the next few weeks playing out countless scenarios in her head of what would happen when she finally saw Astoria again. Ron and Gruffydd were both happy to listen to her practice her tightrope walk of making it clear just how sorry she was while also not trying to force Astoria to forgive her. 

Neither of them were very good at giving Ginny any answers though. Gruffydd was, of course, a dog who was sometimes baffled by but always sympathetic to the wild emotions of humans. And Ron? Well, he was certainly more understanding than Gruff, but he didn’t seem to _get_ Astoria. He just kept telling Ginny not to worry and just be herself, and everything would be just fine. 

Thankfully, getting ready to leave the country for a week turned out to be distracting enough that Ginny soon barely had any time to worry about Astoria. The packing made Gruffydd almost unbearably anxious, and he howled and barked miserably any time Ginny so much as left the room—and all other times too. Her parents had agreed to watch him for the week, but she’d never left Gruffydd more than a few hours and couldn’t stop worrying her mum would give him some human food that would make him horribly sick or that he’d just get lonely without her.

And yet she barely had time to worry about him either, as she found out that being a chaperone involved far more work than she’d anticipated. Piles of itineraries, emergency preparedness classes, a crash course on basic healing spells. She had a file on every student attending the trip that included everything from dietary restrictions and allergies to detailed learning goals. Averford and Coach Mark, who would also be coming on the trip, assured Ginny that she was only being prepped on everything as a fallback and that her only job was to be a friendly, supportive representation of the Harpies for the students. 

Ginny’s one real reassurance was that Mark would be there. He split his time between the team and the Academy, so she didn’t see him as often as the rest of the coaching staff, but she’d always liked him. He had been involved in planning the trip and didn’t seem intimidated by phrases like “in the unlikely event…” and all the potential horrible situations they were supposed to be prepared to handle, nor did the packets of discussion questions seem to make his head spin.

It wasn’t even the unlikely threat of being attacked by Dark wizards that scared Ginny though. It was the long list of things she’d never thought to worry about: students getting lost, unforeseen health emergencies, broken wands, underage magic, natural disasters, splinching, faulty portkeys, visa and border issues, issues with accommodations, and wild animal attacks. They had a plan for everything, but Ginny was sure she’d forget some crucial detail or, more likely, simply freeze in the moment.

With so much to worry about, Ginny considered it a miracle when she finally made it to King’s Cross in one piece and ahead of schedule on Sunday morning. She was early, but there were already plenty of families scattered around the platform, fussing over their children and saying their goodbyes now that Easter Break was over. Briefly, Ginny imagined herself as one of them, saying goodbye to Astoria and her other friends who were still at Hogwarts. Maybe if she’d just blown off quidditch in September to do that, things would be different now. But she was given no time to be pensive.

“Ginny!” a familiar voice shrieked before nearly tackling her to the ground. “You’re here!” Iris let go of Ginny and beamed. “Fancy pants adult chaperone Ginny!”

“Hey, Iris,” Ginny said. “Have a good Easter?”

“Brilliant. C’mon, I’ve already rounded almost everyone up for you.” 

Iris took Ginny’s hand and led her over to a couple benches at one end of the platform where several of the students for the trip were all hanging out and catching up after break. The only people missing were Alexis, a Fourth Year Ginny barely knew called Ciorstaidh, Mark, and Astoria. As Ginny listened to Iris and the others talk about what they did on Easter Break, she kept looking around the platform for the last of their group. 

Eventually, she spotted Mark not far from them, talking to Ciorstaidh and someone who was probably her mother. They were probably just going over the emergency plans, as Ciorstaidh couldn’t walk or stand on her own for very long. She could handle herself just fine at Hogwarts, but they were going to spend part of the trip in the muggle world, so they’d had to get creative to ensure she could get around just fine still. 

A few minutes before eleven, Mark and Ciorstaidh joined them, and Alexis sprinted over just as the final train whistle blew. She collapsed onto the bench out of breath while the rest of the students laughed.

“Told you…” Alexis panted, “I could… do it.” She reached into her rucksack and pulled out a paper bag with a bright yellow M on it and tossed it into Harrison’s lap.

“Legend,” Harrison said. He reached into the bag and took out a container of very thin chips. “Fry, Weasley?” He held it out to Ginny.

“Think that’s all of us then,” Mark said as Ginny tried a fry. He took out a clipboard and scanned the list, muttering names as he went. “Great, yep, that’s everyone. Ready?” He put the clipboard away and pulled out a large ring that Ginny recognised as one of the Ministry’s special multi-use portkeys.

“Er, Astoria’s not here,” Ginny said. 

“Yes, she’ll be joining us later. We’ve already made arrangements. Now, c’mon, girls, no time to waste. You too, Alexis. A last minute run to Maccies is no reason to keep our hosts waiting.”

“You’ve…” Alexis said, still panting heavily, “gotta be… kidding... me.” 

But Alexis pulled herself back to her feet and put her hand on the ring, and the others followed suit. Ginny made sure she had a tight grip on her bag, shook away vague worries about Astoria’s whereabouts, and grabbed hold of the portkey. They stood together in awkward silence for a moment, and then they were all suddenly yanked off the ground and rushed through a blur of colour.

After a couple uncomfortable minutes of being rushed across the planet, they landed in a small, undecorated lobby. A moment later, they were greeted by a French ministry official who checked all of their passports, visas and wands, and then waved them on through the door. 

In the next room, they were met by a young man with a long beard who introduced himself as Agosti Etxepare, the stablemaster at Beauxbatons. He wasted little time on pleasantries and, with barely a moment for Ginny to glance out the window for a brief look at Paris, led them through a series of tunnels that Ginny suspected were some sort of enchanted transport network. 

When they came to the surface, instead of the bustle of Paris, they found themselves in a small field surrounded by trees on every side. There were five massive winged horses, which Etxepare explained would fly them the rest of the way to Beauxbatons. Ginny climbed on the back of a chestnut one with Alexis and a Beauxbatons girl, Vanessa Alarcão, who would lead the horse. Etxepare disillusioned them all to be sure they wouldn’t be seen by any muggles, and then they took to the skies.

As they climbed higher, Paris sprawled out beneath them, stretching out in every direction, far bigger than Ginny could have ever imagined. She’d never really appreciated just how big the world was, and here it was, even just one city, teeming with life everywhere she looked. London was probably just as big, and who knew how many more cities there were in the world. 

The view of Paris didn’t last long though, and they were soon flying above the clouds. When the clouds became repetitive, Alexis caught Ginny up on all the important things: Gryffindor would be lucky to place third in the quidditch cup, N.E.W.T. classes should be illegal, Iris was the best dorm mate, and Astoria and Slughorn miraculously still hadn’t killed each other. Ginny updated Alexis on her own life in return: the Harpies were bouncing around the middle of the ranks right now, she’d adopted a puppy the size of a small bear, and all their old friends were well. They tried talking to Alarcão too, but she said it was too hard to understand English over the wind and flapping wings, so they let her be.

When they finally began their descent, the sprawling city had been replaced by a vast mountain range just as endless as Paris. There were still flecks of snow dotting the peaks of the tallest mountains, but below those peaks were lush blankets of springtime. They descended between peaks into a valley with a great tumbling river that pooled out into a large lake. 

Behind one of the peaks, Beauxbatons came into view, its turrets somehow still stunning in the shadows of the mountains that loomed all around. It was shaped like a C, with a lavish courtyard in the middle. Even far above, Ginny could see the grand fountain at its centre. As they approached, she saw other buildings littered around the landscape surrounding Beauxbatons too, as if it were the centre of a small town. 

They landed in a paddock outside the castle walls. As soon as they had dismounted and gathered their things, Etxepare led them to the courtyard Ginny had spotted from above, where Madam Maxime and a handful of students were waiting for them. Other students, milling about the courtyard, watched with wide eyes and made no secret of their excited whispers. 

They were led on a tour of the entire school and grounds, which Ginny suspected had been rehearsed several times before their arrival. Each of the Beauxbatons students had a section of the tour to lead, where they shared only the most impressive facts about their school. Ginny wondered if this was how Hogwarts had treated their guests when they’d had the chance to show off. 

The tour took hours, and it was only due to the snacks they picked up in the kitchens that Ginny survived. She’d been warned that she needed to eat lunch before they left King’s Cross, but she’d run out of time and only had a hasty breakfast. By the time they finally sat down for dinner, Ginny was both starved and exhausted. 

After dinner, Mark led the girls and Harrison in a discussion of the day, encouraging them to reflect on their experiences so far. Ginny did her best to help, which mostly involved reading the pre-written questions off her clipboard and listening in on the others’ discussions. She was too tired to really take much in though, and she was immensely relieved when they at last all said good night. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

The next morning, they were all up bright and early for breakfast in the courtyard, though a few of the students (namely Alexis, who had never been a morning person) were arguably still asleep as they sat down outside for the breakfast Beauxbatons had prepared for them. Still no Astoria. Ginny tried to ignore the thought. 

As they ate, Mark talked everyone through the schedule for the day: the Academy students would all be shadowing Beauxbatons students for the day. They were to take careful notes on the school, their subjects, teaching styles, culture, languages, and every other detail they could for the academic aspect of the trip. Then, after their classes were done, they would be led to the quidditch pitch to warm up before their match. They were staying at Beauxbatons for one more night, and then they’d have another early morning tomorrow as they continued their journey across Europe.

With business settled, they relaxed into casual conversation about exploding potions, Hogwarts gossip, and friendly banter about each other’s best and worst quidditch moments. Alexis was midway into a story about the time she had scared Ginny so badly she’d nearly fallen off her broom when the sound of great flapping wings pulled everyone’s attention away.

Before Ginny had even turned her head, she knew it was Astoria. Maybe it was because she had, against her better judgement, been waiting for weeks—for months even—for the moment that she would finally see Astoria again. It felt inescapable. Even in August, as Ginny threw Astoria through the air, as her lips, like uttering a curse, called up the chasm that had split the earth between them, as she turned her back on Astoria and ran—even then, Ginny had felt the inevitability of this moment. She knew it was Astoria because it was simply inevitable that it would be. 

But the real reason she knew, without looking, that it was Astoria, was because everyone did. She heard it in the way Alexis’ words caught and turned into a choking sound. She saw it in the way Iris’ spine straightened, in the way Ciorstaidh’s eyes lit up with amazement, in the way Harrison smiled. All of them, even Mark, had the same awed, reverent look written all over them. 

When Ginny turned her head, she watched a beautiful, pure-white horse descending before them, the morning sun’s rays lending a heavenly glow. Ginny’s eyes found Astoria’s hands, resting on the stablemaster’s waist for balance, and the side of her head, covered in a knit winter cap and pressed against his shoulder. _Astoria._

They landed gracefully, hooves almost silent, only a few feet away from their table. With the knowing smile of someone who realises he’s the harbinger of something far more important than himself, the stablemaster dismounted the horse and held out his hand. With every eye on her, Astoria took his hand and slid gracefully off the back of the horse. They exchanged a couple quiet words in which Astoria took her bag, and then he hopped back onto the horse and gave a friendly wave to them all.

Astoria stepped forward, and Ginny saw her face clearly for the first time, sharper and harsher than Ginny remembered, but unmistakably Astoria. Ginny was reminded, somehow, of watching the entirety of Paris spread out beneath her feet, as if she was once again looking at something as vast and beautiful and terrifying as an entire city, bigger than any world she’d ever known. 

The stablemaster kicked off, and for a moment, Astoria was perfectly framed by the horse’s great, white wings. In that brief moment, in which time itself seemed to hold its breath, they ceased to be the horse’s wings. They were Astoria’s wings, a beautiful and terrifying angel, and Ginny could only hope she was in the good graces of whatever god had sent her.

But the horse soared higher, taking its angelic wings with it, and Astoria tripped over her own feet. Ginny had barely realised Astoria was falling before Iris, leaping forward in a flash, had caught her. The illusion vanished, and there was only a small, teenage girl unsteady in Iris’ grip. 

“Heaven forbid Astoria Greengrass not make an entrance,” Iris said. It sounded like an admonishment, kind but stern, and she took Astoria’s bag from her. 

“Beauxbatons insisted on the horses,” Astoria said. “I would have preferred a portkey.”

Iris yanked Astoria’s beanie off her head. “And what the hell is this?” Astoria’s long black hair was gone. The sides and back of her scalp had been shaved completely, and what was left of her hair, only a few inches long on top, was now a violent crimson that reminded Ginny of fresh blood. 

Astoria snatched the beanie back and pulled it back over her hair. “It was my cousin’s idea.” Then she stepped around Iris, kissed Harrison lightly on the cheek, and took Iris’ vacated seat beside Ginny, though Ginny couldn’t be sure Astoria had actually noticed her. All of Astoria’s focus now seemed to be on breakfast.

“How was the journey, Astoria?” Mark asked kindly.

Astoria shrugged as she reached across the table. “Long.” 

Up close, Ginny noticed that Astoria’s skin was pale, paler even than Ginny’s, and her face had looked so sharp because it was thin. She looked not angelic but ghostly.

“I promise there is nothing interesting about me eating a croissant,” Astoria said to no one in particular, though Ginny still felt like it was directed at her, “so there’s no need to watch.”

Ginny found herself suddenly snapped back to reality, and reality was a swirl of confusion and uncertainty. She grabbed her clipboard just to have something to pretend to be doing while the world spun. What were they? Was this the moment that would decide if the friendship they once had could ever be recovered? Should Ginny apologise right now? Should she wait? 

Without looking, Ginny recounted Astoria’s face and the ghostly tinge of her skin. It was probably better that Ginny let her be; Astoria was surely exhausted. Plus, saying something in front of the others would just make things even more awkward. So instead, Ginny read through her emergency plans to ensure she knew exactly what to do in the unlikely event they happened to find themselves attacked by a tartalo, a giant-like species said to live in these mountains and eat young men and women.

Astoria didn’t say anything else for the rest of breakfast, but no one else seemed concerned by her silence. Ginny tried not to wonder why Astoria had come separately and later or whether Astoria was aware that Ginny was right beside her, quietly trying to swallow her panic. Wondering about Astoria felt like a violation, like simply the act of considering Astoria’s internal life was an invasion of her privacy. Ginny wanted in desperately, but she no longer had any rights to know what Astoria thought. 

The rest of breakfast passed in a haze of anxiety.

When the students, including Astoria, left to begin their day, Mark and Ginny took a walk. Ginny knew finally seeing Astoria again had put her on edge, but it wasn’t until she screamed, frightened by a harmless rustle of leaves in the wind, that she realised how much it had unsettled her. Eight months, and Astoria just sat down beside her without even the slightest indication that she had even noticed Ginny. Was Ginny nothing at all to her now?

“All right, Ginny?” Mark asked gently when she’d screamed.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“You seem tense.”

Ginny couldn’t dump this on him. For one, it was too much to explain—not just that night in August but the years that had led to it. 

Second, she’d have to come out to him, and maybe out Astoria too. She liked Mark and trusted him, but she played for the same all-women’s quidditch team he worked for. Even if her teammates could be fine with the existence of gay people somewhere in the world, it was different sharing a locker room with one. What if Mark thought she’d chosen the Harpies just so she could creepily check out her teammates while they changed and showered? She hadn’t, of course, but what if that’s what he thought? And what if that’s what he thought of Astoria for starting the Academy? What if he told someone else?

But the third and final reason she couldn’t tell Mark was simply that she was too ashamed. It wasn’t that she’d lashed out at Astoria, though she was ashamed of that too. It was that, in the face of her own mistakes, she’d been everything she swore she wasn’t: a coward. It had been eight months, and she’d never even tried to talk to Astoria, much less apologise. How could she fix things now? 

But there was actually one thing troubling Ginny that she could talk to Mark about. 

“Astoria looked poorly,” Ginny said. “Like she hasn’t been sleeping, for one.” 

“I imagine she hasn’t,” Mark said. “She was still in California last night. That’s not an easy journey.”

“California?”

“As I understand it, she was looking into some career options over Easter.”

“In _California_?” Ginny felt like someone had torn the ground from beneath her feet. Astoria moving to California? Ginny didn’t really even know where California was, but she knew it was impossibly far. 

“I believe she has family out there.”

Ginny didn’t know what to do with that information. Everything seemed to be spinning. California. Astoria’s family. A few weeks ago, she had thought they might be teammates. Not necessarily friends, but maybe they could get there again with time. Now time seemed like a luxury Ginny didn’t have. 

“Ginny?” Mark asked. 

“She can’t,” Ginny whispered. Astoria couldn’t leave. 

“The quidditch match?” Mark paused to give it thought, and Ginny let him. “This trip isn’t really about quidditch. Astoria knows that, and I am confident that she will prioritise the experiences she has planned for her classmates over a single quidditch match. If she thinks she is too tired to fly safely, Harrison will take her spot. I trust her.”

Ginny thought that sounded nothing like the Astoria she knew, but so did moving to California to be with family. Maybe Ginny didn’t know Astoria at all anymore. 


	11. Rumours and Legends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mention of canon character deaths, the war, and the final battle, bodily fluid (vomit)
> 
> Pronunciation notes: Verhoeven (Dutch) is like English, but more like ver-hoof-en. Joep (Dutch) is like Yoop.

While the Academy students had all been enjoying Easter Break, Ginny had experienced the exact opposite of a break. She’d had her usual quidditch schedule, countless final preparations for the trip, and an absolutely inconsolable puppy who’d clearly realised Ginny was leaving and did his best to protest this unjust abandonment. Then, to top it off, she’d made the long journey to Beauxbatons, cramped up on the back of a horse for several hours. The Academy students were tired yesterday, but a single night’s sleep seemed to have given all of them a full recovery. 

Not Ginny though. As soon as she finished her walk with Mark, Ginny’s exhaustion caught back up with her. She glanced at her clipboard to be sure she hadn’t forgotten something she was supposed to be doing and was relieved to see she was completely free until lunch. A nap was definitely in order. 

When found her way back to her room (having only gotten lost once), she swung the door open, stepped inside, and let out a deep sigh. Finally, she could have some rest, and maybe the dull, anxious hum of _Astoria, Astoria, Astoria_ that seemed to be monopolising the majority of her mental capacity would quiet down too. Then she looked up and froze.

Ginny had been given her own room last night, and she hadn’t given any thought to the fact that there was a second bed in the room. She had simply assumed it was what happened to be available at the school. The girls had all been given a dorm, Mark and Harrison had a shared room, and Ginny seemed to have been graciously given her own room. 

Now, however, Ginny realised her accommodations had been anything but gracious. At the foot of the once-empty second bed was Astoria’s bag, and fast asleep in the bed was the last person Ginny should be rooming with: Astoria. 

Ginny stared at Astoria, frozen with panic. Did Astoria know they were sharing a room? Would she be upset if she woke up and found Ginny there? Would she think Ginny had planned this? How could Ginny possibly explain that she’d had nothing to do with this without sounding like she didn’t want to be around Astoria? 

Maybe Astoria didn’t care. She’d sat down right next to Ginny at breakfast. Even if she hadn’t noticed Ginny when she first sat down, there was no way she hadn’t eventually realised they were sitting right next to each other. Maybe Astoria didn’t want to make a big deal out of any of it. It had been so long ago, and it wasn’t like Astoria hadn’t made any effort to talk. Maybe she’d just been quiet because she was tired. 

Ginny slowed her breathing and let the panic subside. Astoria was sleeping. That was at least one good thing. She was supposed to be in classes right now, but she’d left to come take a nap. Maybe that was a sign that, contrary to Ginny’s worries, Astoria wasn’t going to just push herself endlessly and end up trying to play a quidditch match at one hundred ten percent while exhausted from a long journey. Ginny decided to focus on that instead.

Plus, Ginny was still tired. Her arms and shoulders were sore from quidditch last week, and she felt dead on her feet. She couldn’t solve this right now, and making a fuss about it would probably only make it worse. Ginny just needed a nap, and they were only here for one night anyway. Sure that it would be fine, Ginny tip-toed to her bed, careful not to wake Astoria, and sank into the soft sheets.

Astoria was still fast asleep when Ginny woke up. Part of her had expected Astoria to wake up, see Ginny, and storm out of the room, but she was still there. Ginny found it oddly reassuring, and she stayed in bed for a bit, just staring at the ceiling. Sleep had calmed some of her anxiety, and she could just barely hear Astoria’s slow breathing. Maybe after Astoria had recovered from her long journey, they could talk and work things out finally.

Just after four o’clock, Ginny and Mark met the rest of the team (sans Astoria, who was probably still sleeping) at the quidditch pitch to prepare for the match. The Beauxbatons students they’d been shadowing pointed them to their changing rooms and went off to the other changing rooms to prepare for the match as well. The girls and Harrison were all goofing off and messing about with each other on the pitch, and it was only when Mark got very stern that they grudgingly dragged themselves off to the changing rooms.

Fifteen minutes later, an entirely different group of teenagers emerged, led by a serious-faced Iris. Ginny had seen photos of their new uniforms in the paper, but the papers had clearly not done Parvati Patil’s design work any justice. Iris, who Ginny had always seen as just her best friend’s goofy little sibling, had been transformed into, well, a Harpie: ferocious, powerful, ready to win. Every single one of them looked every bit like a professional quidditch player, even tiny Ciorstaidh, the youngest of the group. 

“One lap, single file,” Astoria commanded from the back of the group. “Iris will set the pace.”

Ginny jumped so bad that she nearly fell over and had to grab Mark’s shoulder to catch herself. She hadn’t seen Astoria come down, and she had been too distracted by the uniforms to notice Astoria had joined them somehow. But her eyes found Astoria, waving the rest of the team into a tight line behind Iris, who had already started jogging. This morning, she had seemed like a gentle breeze could knock her over, but now she looked as much a professional quidditch player as the rest of the team. Maybe it was the way the uniforms seemed to make them all, especially Astoria, look like they had wings, but Ginny couldn’t imagine anyone telling Astoria she shouldn’t fly. She looked like she belonged in the air.

When they finished their lap around the pitch, Astoria led the team through the rest of their warm-ups and stretches. Ginny, who had seen plenty of Hogwarts quidditch warm-ups, couldn’t help but be impressed: not once did Astoria ever have to repeat an instruction, and not once did anyone complain or goof off. Somehow, in the course of fifteen minutes, they had been transformed from a hodgepodge group of rowdy teenagers into what Ginny realised was every bit a professional quidditch team. She hoped the Beauxbatons players were ready.

After their warm-up, Mark talked the team through their strategies for the match and reminded them all to keep in mind their learning goals for the trip. “And most importantly, have fun!” he said to serious, nodding faces. Once it was time for the match to start, Ginny, Mark, and Harrison made their way into the stands to watch along with the rest of Beauxbatons.

The Holyhead Harpies’ Youth Academy played like they had warmed up: as a unit. The Beauxbatons players were good, but Ginny could tell they weren’t as used to playing on the same team. They didn’t know how to play to each others’ strengths half as well as the Academy, and the score quickly made it clear how much of a difference that made. 

By the time Ginny headed off to their room for the night, Astoria still hadn’t said a single word to Ginny. Of course, Ginny hadn’t really said anything to her directly either, but Ginny had at least tried smiling at Astoria at dinner, for all the good that did. Astoria didn’t seem to have even noticed that Ginny was there at all. Ginny was trying to just let it be, but it was frustrating her. She just wanted to deal with everything and be done wondering uselessly. Patience was not her strong suit.

When Ginny came into their room, she expected Astoria to be asleep already. Instead, she found Astoria wide awake, talking to Iris who was sitting on Ginny’s bed. They both fell silent as soon as they realised Ginny was there.

“Sorry,” Ginny said reflexively. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to leave, but Iris spoke before she could.

“Hey, Ginny,” Iris said brightly. “You’re not interrupting. I should get some sleep anyway.” She gave a big yawn, stretched, and stood up. “Be sure to listen to your chaperone, Astoria.” She reached over to muss Astoria’s hair.

Astoria ducked and swatted Iris’ hand away. “Good night, Iris,” she said, sounding irritable. 

Iris gave Astoria a brief hug, whispered something to her, and then let go. “Night, Ginny.” She patted Ginny’s shoulder as she left, and then Ginny and Astoria were alone.

Ginny’s heart pounded in her throat, and it seemed someone had cast a leg-locker curse on her. She needed to do something or say something or just find a way across the room to her bed, but she was frozen. It might have been only a second, but it felt like several minutes before Ginny could move at all. 

But then her mouth opened suddenly, and Ginny blurted, “I like your hair.”

Astoria, who had leaned over to rummage through her bag, froze for another several-minutes-long second. Then she straightened up and looked Ginny in the eye for the first time in several months. 

“It’s a good colour on you,” Ginny’s mouth somehow said, despite the panic rushing through her body. _What a stupid thing to say_ , she thought. _Eight bloody months, and that’s_ _the first thing you say to her?_

Astoria’s face was unreadable, and after a moment, she just shrugged and returned to her bag. 

_A shrug? Is that it?_ Irritation awoke Ginny’s legs, but she fought the urge to make Astoria look at her again. It was fine. Astoria didn’t want to talk, so Ginny wouldn’t make her. Fine. That was fine. It was just one night, just one week. Ginny was _fine_. She certainly wasn’t shaking while she pulled out her pajamas and toothbrush, and she definitely wasn’t nearly crying. 

She was perfectly fine. There was absolutely no way Ginny had been quietly hoping for weeks that they’d see each other, realise how stupid it’d been to not talk for almost a year, and just immediately go back to being friends. That would have been ridiculous. 

She brushed her teeth in the small sink in their room and conjured herself a curtain to change behind. Without so much as a glance in Astoria’s direction, she put her dirty clothes and toothbrush away, set her wand down on the nightstand, and climbed into bed. She wasn’t going to cry. Crying was stupid. This was exactly how things were expected to go, and she’d cried over Astoria far too much already. 

As soon as she felt the first miserable sob slip out of her throat, she grabbed her wand again and silenced herself so Astoria wouldn’t hear. Then she pulled the covers over her face and gave up on trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt like hell. She could not imagine how things could possibly be any worse. Astoria didn’t even want to _look_ at her. She hated Ginny. Ginny had been a fool to expect anything else.

When Ginny woke up Tuesday morning, long before sunrise, Astoria was already gone. Relieved to have a respite from awkwardly tiptoeing around, Ginny splashed water over her face and slipped into warm clothes for the flight. Then she rounded up the rest of the students and brought them out to the stables where Mark, Harrison, Astoria, and Iris were already waiting with the stablehands. In the darkness, they mounted the horses again and took to the skies. Alexis fell back asleep as soon as they reached the clouds, so it was a long, silent journey. 

When they landed in Paris, Mark led them back through the tunnels into the Ministry, where a French official authorised their portkey to Brussels. Once in Brussels, they had their passports, visas, and wands checked again, and then they were released to a woman who introduced herself as Marie Verhoeven, Headmistress at Sint Clara’s Hogeschool in Antwerp. 

They took a blessedly short portkey to Sint Clara’s, which was a simple campus with only a couple buildings in a large field, surrounded on all sides by deciduous trees. Compared to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, it might have seemed unimpressive, but Ginny found something charming about the place anyway. Sure, it wasn’t an internationally renowned wizarding school, but something about the air itself seemed kind and reassuring. _You’re safe now_ , the old, creaky buildings whispered. 

“She’s not officially a saint,” a Sint Clara’s boy explained as they ate breakfast. “But she should be. It was during the witch hunts. Clara saved tons of young witches, and she wasn’t even a witch. She was a dreuzel, but she was executed for witchcraft anyway.”

“A droo-what now?” Alexis asked.

He frowned, searching for the word. “Not magic, same as her parents.”

“Oh, a muggle.”

“Muggle? Oh, that’s way better than dreuzel! My parents will love that!” He laughed. “Anyway, they executed her for being a witch, but one of the kids she saved founded the school and named it after her, Sint Clara. We used to have dreuzel kids too, but the…” He screwed up his face again in search of words. “Regering… you know, the laws and such?”

“The Ministry?” Ginny offered. “Government?”

“Right, yeah, them. Sorry.” His cheeks flushed. “They wouldn’t let us, tried to shut the whole school down. Some say they still let dreuzel kids in and just teach them in secret though.”

“Teach them what?” Alexis asked curiously.

“Well, it’s really for dreuzel kids who have someone magic in the family, to help them be part of our world if they want, even if they can’t do magic.” He shrugged. “It’s just a legend anyway. If you got caught doing something like that, you’d probably get—oh, I don’t know what you call it in English.” He groaned, clearly frustrated with himself for not knowing the word, but he pressed on anyway. “They’re these nasty things that suck out your soul.” 

“Dementors,” Ginny said. A chill ran down her spine just at the thought. 

“Yeah, so it’s just a legend. We’ve been investigated a thousand times. They would have caught us by now if we were secretly teaching a bunch of dreuzels about magic. They would have just shut the whole school down.”

“Now, now, that’s enough of rumours, Joep,” Verhoeven said, smiling. She had left them at the start of breakfast with Joep and a couple other students and only just returned. 

She exchanged a few quick sentences in Dutch with Joep and the other Sint Clara’s students, and then they were all on their feet, ready to start the day. The Academy students were again shadowing their hosts, but this time, Ginny was asked, along with Mark, to help out with the physical education classes.

The day was going mostly pleasantly, despite the discomfort of some of the younger students staring at her wide-eyed, until a very small girl came up to Ginny and whispered, “Are you sad? My brother says today is a sad day for you.”

“Er, no, I’m okay,” Ginny said, thrown by the question. 

“Oh, okay. Can you do my shoes then?” The girl kicked her feet at the ground, flapping her laces around.

“Yeah, hold still.” Ginny knelt down and knotted the girl’s left shoe laces. Just as she was reaching for the girl’s other shoe, it hit her: today was the second. Hands suddenly shaking horribly, Ginny fumbled the laces, taking far longer with the second shoe. When she finally managed to get the laces tied, she took one quick breath to pull her face into something that wouldn’t terrify the little girl and looked up. “There you go.”

“Dankuwel!” The girl said as she ran off to rejoin her classmates. 

As soon as the girl was gone, Ginny felt herself crack slightly. She spun her patronus ring three times and waved Mark aside, trying to focus on the warmth spreading up her arm. “Mark,” was all Ginny managed to say.

Mark gave her a tight hug, wordlessly understanding. When he let go, he said, “Take whatever time you need.”

Ginny nodded and, keeping her pace as steady and calm as she could, she crossed the clearing, walked around the building and continued into the trees. Then she bent over and vomited.

The second of May. The battle. 

Ginny grabbed a tree for balance and cried. There was no use even thinking about it. It sucked. It sucked, and she was just going to cry for a bit until she had gotten it all out of her system. It was a sad day for her, and there was no point fighting the tears.

When classes finished for the day, the Academy again had a quidditch friendly. Ginny had expected that hiding a quidditch pitch in such flat geography would be difficult, but Sint Clara’s had simply dug an impressively large hole deep enough to keep the goal posts well below the tree tops and then magically sealed off the soil to prevent ground water seeping in.

The Sint Clara’s players were good, and they probably would have had a fair shot of winning anyway, but it wasn’t just a hard day for Ginny. The Academy played hard, each of them trying for the sake of their teammates, but Ginny could tell their hearts weren’t in it. After Sint Clara’s seeker caught the snitch and won the match, the Academy players cleaned up slowly. 

Joep, the boy who they’d talked to over breakfast, waited for them anyway. “Dinner?” He asked hopefully when they’d at last come out. “There’s this great restaurant in the city we wanted to show you.”

The others all looked between each other, unsure. 

“Iris,” Astoria said softly.

“I don’t know,” Iris said without looking Astoria in the eye. “I’m fine. I wasn’t there.”

“Thank you for the offer, Joep,” Mark said gently. “I think we all could use some time to rest right now though.”

“We’ll bring you back dinner,” Joep said. “It’s not far.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you.”

“It’s nothing.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I know it’s… a hard day.” He nodded suddenly, pulling the appearance of a good mood out of thin air. “Okay, I’ll bring it to the dorm. Bit of everything.” Then he took off in a jog across the campus where some of the other Sint Clara’s students were waiting. 

Mark waved the group toward the small building which held the dorms. Ginny slipped her arm around Iris’ elbow, pulled her away from the others, and just hugged her.

“Liar,” Ginny said gently. Both of them had lost a brother two years ago to the day, on top of everything else there was to think and feel about the anniversary of the final battle. Iris wasn’t fine.

Iris didn’t say anything, but she hugged back tightly. Somehow, Ginny ended up being the one crying, even though she had meant to comfort Iris. She wished Colin could have been here to see his beloved little sister growing up. 

“When did you become an adult?” Ginny asked when they pulled away from each other.

Ginny had meant it as a compliment, a sort of joke, but Iris’ face turned dark and angry, a look Ginny had rarely even seen on her. “Someone had to do it,” Iris said coldly.

“What?”

In an uncanny and unsettling imitation of Astoria’s go-to, unreadable expression, Iris collected herself and said simply, “This isn’t the right time for this conversation.”

“Are you upset with me?” Ginny asked. 

“I’m going inside. Thanks for thinking of me. Dead brothers suck.” Then, without another word, Iris turned and left Ginny.


	12. Quidditch Broadcast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mention of canon character deaths

The dormitories turned out to be more like a large house with several bedrooms, each with their own key. Only a handful of students lived there, as most students went home every night. Mark handed out keys to each of the Academy students, and some of them headed off to their rooms for some alone time. Ginny didn’t want to be alone though, so she sat in the living room area and joined a couple of Sint Clara’s students to play a muggle game she didn’t totally understand. 

When Joep arrived with dinner, they all filled the long table and ate in relative silence with only a few quiet conversations scattered among them. After dinner, Mark excused them all from their scheduled discussion time in favour of letting them all rest. 

Mark, Ginny, Alexis, and Lilani, a Sixth year who played chaser for Ravenclaw, were the only ones who didn’t go straight to their rooms. They played simple card games with a deck Lilani had brought and talked about anything but the war and the battle and the people who’d died. The Sint Clara’s students joined them for a few games, but they had exams coming up and soon left to go study. 

Eventually exhaustion caught up with Ginny, and once they finished the current game, she excused herself to go sleep. She made her way slowly up the stairs, dreaming happily of sleeping in past sunrise tomorrow. It had been a long, rough day, but she’d gotten through it, and she finally felt like she could sleep. 

Thoughts of a nice, relaxing night were pushed from her mind though when she opened the door: Astoria was sitting at a desk, writing something. 

“Fucking hell,” Ginny said. She was not ready to deal with another night of this, especially not tonight of all nights. In fact, she wasn’t going to deal with it. She stormed over to where her bag had been placed for her, picked it up, and stormed right back over to the door.

“Don’t even bother,” Astoria said without looking up. 

Ginny spun on her heel and glared at her. “Oh, are you talking to me now?” she snapped.

“The room assignments are intentional. Get used to it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You picked this? You wanted to have a miserable week of not talking to each other?”

“It means,” Astoria said through gritted teeth, finally looking up at Ginny, “that the only reason you’re here is because Averford wants to use you to get to me. My apologies for ruining your week. I’ll tell Averford you tried your best, but if you go storming off to complain about how miserable I make you, she’s going to find out.”

Ginny’s mouth seemed to have stopped working. She tried opening it several times, but nothing came out.

Astoria sighed. “Look, I’m sorry you got dragged into this, okay? But just suck it up for a few more days, and then you’ll be rid of me, and you won’t have to ever see me again.”

Ginny’s scream at Astoria blared in her mind, as fresh and as raw as if she’d just screamed it now. _I never want to see you again!_ Before Ginny could stop herself, a tiny sob escaped her chest. Instinctively, she spun her patronus ring three times and bolted from the room. 

She ran out of the house and across the grounds, desperate to put as much distance between her and Astoria as she could. Maybe running was the wrong answer, but crying in front of Astoria was no better. Maybe she should have just told Astoria how much she wished she could take it all back, how much she had wanted to see Astoria over and over and over ever since that night, but she couldn’t. It hurt too much.

Somehow, the anniversary of losing her brother Fred, her best friend Colin, and so many others paled in comparison. She could blame Riddle for them, but there was no one to blame for losing Astoria but herself. 

Ginny found a tree and sank to the ground. Just like the memory of the battle, there was no fighting this, and Ginny didn’t bother trying. She just cried. 

When she finally ran out of tears, she did her best to recompose herself and headed back to the house. Astoria had had more than enough time to leave the room or put herself to sleep with her sleeping potions, so Ginny was sure she wouldn’t have to deal with Astoria at all until morning at least. 

But Ginny opened the door and found Astoria putting something away in her bag, very much here and very much not asleep. She didn’t look at Ginny as she stood up. 

“I’m sorry, Astoria,” Ginny said. The words seemed to have found their way out without Ginny even meaning to, as if crying had finally cleared whatever had been blocking their path the last several months. 

Astoria stopped and looked at Ginny, unreadable. 

“I fucked up, and then I just ran away. I didn’t know how I could possibly fix it, so I just didn’t even try. And I am so sorry for that, Astoria. You deserved better.”

Astoria’s eyes drooped, and she yawned. 

“Great, thanks,” Ginny said sarcastically. “Sorry for boring you on top of everything else.” The brief relief she’d felt for finally getting it off her chest was gone as soon as it had come. 

“No,” Astoria said, suddenly looking concerned. She took a step toward Ginny, but she swayed and fell. 

Ginny barely managed to catch Astoria in time before she could face plant into the floor. “Astoria?”

“Potion,” Astoria said weakly, and then she slumped into Ginny’s arms, fast asleep. She’d taken her sleeping potion. 

Ginny stood rooted to the spot for a moment, confused and unsure what to do. Astoria had her head resting on Ginny’s shoulder, and her arms were wrapped loosely around Ginny. Even though she knew it was only because the sleeping potion had knocked Astoria out, Ginny couldn’t help the swirl of emotions coursing through her. It felt like forgiveness, even if it really wasn’t. It felt like Astoria trusted Ginny, even if she really didn’t. It felt like they were friends, even if they really weren’t. In fact, for all Ginny knew, Astoria might have already been too groggy to remember any of it at all. 

Whatever Astoria thought or felt or remembered though, Ginny couldn’t stand here all night holding Astoria. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. Carefully, she shifted her grip on Astoria so she could get her own wand. Then she carefully got Astoria into her bed and tucked her in beneath the covers. 

Ignoring the voice in her head that said she shouldn’t, Ginny gently brushed Astoria’s crimson hair out of her face. Her fingers lingered on Astoria, and she traced the sharp lines of her face. Her skin was still incredibly pale, and Ginny thought she felt cold too. 

For a moment, Ginny considered crawling into bed with Astoria to offer her own body heat, but she quickly ditched the idea as absurd. Astoria letting Ginny catch her when her sleeping potion knocked her out was leagues away from Astoria wanting _body heat._ If they were still friends, maybe Astoria would have appreciated it, but they weren’t friends. 

So instead, Ginny took the covers off her own bed and piled them onto Astoria to keep her warm. She let herself take one last look at Astoria, whispered, “Goodnight, Astoria,” and then got herself ready for bed. 

Ginny woke up in the middle of the night. At first, she couldn’t understand why she’d woken up. She was tired, and her brain was moving slowly. But then she heard thrashing and rolled over: Astoria was tangled in the bedsheets, tossing and turning as if fighting off some invisible adversary.

Ginny was paralysed by indecision, too groggy to think clearly. Astoria, nightmare, wake up, angry, _you’ll never have to see me again_ —there was too much clouding her mind to think through it, and she was still too asleep to simply jump into action. 

Astoria sat up straight suddenly, and the thrashing stopped. In the darkness, Ginny watched her hunch over and hug her knees. After a few minutes, she lifted her head, and Ginny realised too late that Astoria was turning her head toward Ginny. She shut her eyes tight and pretended to be asleep, hoping Astoria hadn’t seen her awake. Even when they had been close, Astoria had never really talked about her nightmares with Ginny. She doubted Astoria would want Ginny knowing she’d had one tonight.

Ginny listened to Astoria get up and take a few steps. She heard Astoria reaching into her bag, tap her wand, and swallow. Then, Astoria took a few more steps and got back into her bed. She made no other sound the rest of the night, and Ginny fell back asleep not long after.

When Ginny woke up Wednesday morning, Astoria was gone. Her bed was made, and all of her things were gone. Even the extra bed sheets Ginny had given her were all neatly folded at the foot of Ginny’s bed. Ginny stared at them, unsure what to think, unsure what Astoria must have thought when she realised she had Ginny’s bed sheets. But Ginny didn’t have time to sit around wondering about Astoria all morning, so she dressed quickly, glanced at the day’s schedule, and headed down stairs where, according to her handy clipboard, she was to help make breakfast.

As soon as Ginny walked into the kitchen, her eyes found Astoria: sitting at the counter, slicing tomatoes, laughing. 

“Good morning, Ginny,” Mark said. “How’d you sleep?”

Astoria stopped laughing, and her eyes met Ginny’s. Just as quickly as she’d looked to Ginny though, she looked away. But she hadn’t seemed angry. 

“Good,” Ginny said. “Are you making breakfast?”

“Yeah, wanna help?” Harrison asked. “We’re doing it without any magic. Or minimal magic, at least. I don’t know how you’d light the stove without magic. C’mon.” He waved her over and vacated his seat beside Astoria, gesturing for Ginny to take it.

“Sure,” Ginny said. Her pulse sped up, but she walked around the counter and took his seat. She tried not to think too much about how Astoria was now just inches away from her.

“We’re trying to make these sausages for Astoria.” He pushed a piece of paper in front of Ginny. 

“You really don’t have to,” Astoria said in a tiny voice. Her cheeks turned pink, and she became incredibly focused on slicing the tomatoes exactly in half. 

“We’re torturing Astoria,” Iris said cheerfully as she put a tray of hashbrowns into the oven. “We’re being considerate of her needs, and all she can do is suffer in silence.”

“I have a knife, Iris,” Astoria growled.

“I said silence, snake.”

Astoria rolled her eyes.

“Anyway,” Harrison said firmly, “Iris got this recipe from the, er…”

“Internet,” Iris said. “I did some research over break and found a vegan message board.”

“Yeah, that.” Harrison looked like he hadn’t the slightest clue what words like “internet” and “vegan message board” meant, which meant Ginny at least wasn’t alone. “No idea how it’ll turn out, but we’re going to at least try. Do you want to help with it? I was just about to start chopping the mushrooms and onions.” He slid the paper away and put a chopping board in front of Ginny instead.

“Sure,” Ginny said. 

The rest of the students, including the few Sint Clara’s students who lived on campus, slowly trickled in as they went about making breakfast. By the time everything was cooked, they’d made an entire feast: hashbrowns, beans, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, vegan sausages (they didn’t hold together very well, but Ginny thought they at least tasted fine), toast, an assortment of jams and spreads, pancakes, piles of fresh fruit, juice, tea, and coffee. 

Astoria didn’t say anything to Ginny at any point while they cooked or ate, but Ginny didn’t find the silence between them as uncomfortable anymore. Despite her obvious embarrassment that her friends were trying to accommodate her (and the occasional sibling-like bickering between her and Iris), Astoria seemed cheerful. Ginny had missed hearing Astoria’s laughter. 

After breakfast, they met Verhoeven and the rest of the Sint Clara’s students who the Academy students had shadowed the day before. Today was meant to be a bit of a rest day, with no quidditch or classes planned, but they still had a tight schedule. So as soon as everyone was accounted for, their hosts walked them through the trees and out into the city just beyond. They boarded a muggle bus and rode into the heart of Antwerp, where they disembarked. 

As they walked through the city, the Sint Clara’s students pointed out their favourite shops and sights. Some of them pointed out where you’d turn to reach the hidden wizarding parts of the city, but none of them seemed even a little uncomfortable to be walking through muggle streets in broad daylight. Ginny couldn’t imagine a group of Hogwarts students looking this relaxed in London.

Their brief tour of Antwerp ended in front of a large, busy cathedral. The Academy students and Sint Clara’s students all hugged each other, with promises to write and hopes to visit each other soon. Verhoeven pulled Astoria aside to thank her for convincing McGonagall to let them come to Sint Clara’s, and they all thanked Verhoeven and the Sint Clara’s students for the hospitality.

Then Mark checked his watch and hurried the Academy students into the cathedral, which Ginny was surprised to learn was actually the most impressive train station she’d ever seen. High ceilings, decorative towers, ornate stonework, grand windows—King’s Cross was nice, but it paled in comparison. 

“Astoria really did her research, didn’t she?” Alexis said when she caught Ginny staring at the architecture. “It’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful train stations in the world.” That certainly explained why they were taking a muggle train to the Netherlands instead of just a portkey.

When they found their train, Ginny, while slightly surprised by the concept of reserved train seating, was entirely unsurprised to find that she and Astoria had been assigned a pair of seats together. Averford had clearly left no stone unturned. 

“Hey,” Ginny said as she sat down in the seat beside Astoria.

“I don’t want to talk on her terms,” Astoria said. 

“Okay.” Ginny decided that was a good sign: Astoria was talking to her. Sort of. It was the kind of talking that still wasn’t really talking, but it didn’t feel personal now. “That’s not why I—”

“I know.”

“Right.”

“No offense, but you have a habit of broadcasting all your thoughts like a quidditch announcer.”

“None taken.”

“This counts as talking.”

“Sorry.”

Astoria just groaned.

“What if you don’t talk but I do?” Maybe Ginny shouldn’t push, but she’d spent almost a year saying nothing to Astoria, and it felt like maybe it was time to start making up for that.

Astoria turned and looked at Ginny, one eyebrow arched. “So I get stuck with you, and you’re just going to talk my ear off?”

“It’s up to you.”

Astoria shrugged. “You’d sound a lot more sincere if you hadn’t waited until your boss forced you into spending a week with me and almost certainly told you to win me over somehow.”

Ginny closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I would.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about it, but you can do whatever you want.” Astoria folded her arms and turned her attention to the window, watching the landscape fly by.

“I got a puppy.” 

Astoria looked back at Ginny, eyebrows stitched together in confusion.

“His name’s Gruffydd—I figured he deserved a proper Welsh name because he’s from Wales. He’s a sweetheart and an absolute terror. He’s about a year old now. We’re not really sure because he was a stray, but he’s about as big as me. Ron didn’t trust him at first, but—”

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m talking to you.”

“I noticed.” Astoria’s eyes flickered between Ginny’s, trying to make sense of her.

“You said you didn’t—”

“I thought you were going to tell me how sorry you were.”

“I don’t want to make you listen to that when Averford’s forcing you to listen to me and my quidditch broadcast.”

Astoria’s expression relaxed, and she bit back a laugh. Then, apparently horrified that she’d almost laughed, she hardened her face and looked back out the window. “So instead I just get your random stream of consciousness.”

“I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Astoria’s shoulders rose and fell slowly with her careful breathing. After a moment, Astoria said, “When did you get him?”

So Ginny told her. They spent most of the train ride that way, with Ginny telling Astoria about Gruffydd, living in Wales, how her brothers were all doing. Astoria didn’t say much, but Ginny knew she was listening. It felt like writing a letter, minus the eerily scratching quill, and Ginny tried to fill it with all the mundane details of her life that she should have been writing to Astoria all year. It wasn’t enough—one train journey couldn’t possibly be enough—but it was a start. It was a step. Maybe, after this week was over and they found time to talk without Averford forcing them together, they could talk about the harder things too.


	13. A Normal Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: some discussion around systemic homophobia/heterosexism, mention of (past) minor character deaths, mention of (past) LGBTQ+ deaths, mention of familial rejection of LGBTQ+ child, mention of LGBTQ+ homelessness, self-referential use of blood supremacist slur (“mudblood”)

When they got off the train, Astoria found Harrison quickly and laced her fingers in his. It was an abrupt end to their (admittedly very one-sided) conversation, but Ginny decided not to take it personally. She was tired from talking to Astoria, so Astoria was probably tired too. 

The group walked through the muggle city of Rotterdam, with Mark and the students switching off to act as tour guides along the way. Ginny only half paid attention to the tour, preferring instead to just look around without caring about the history or meaning of anything.

They got lunch at a hole-in-the-wall place that sold some sort of pita bread sandwich-like things called broodje with an assortment of fillings. Ciorstaidh seemed to know all about them, and she looked fit to burst with excitement as she helped everyone decide what to have in theirs. 

Ginny, probably driven to recklessness by the relief that she’d somehow spent a couple of arguably pleasant hours with Astoria, got everything on hers, including some sort of spicy sauce Ciorstaidh tried in vain to warn her against. As soon as she took a bite, she knew it had been a mistake: her mouth was on fire, and there were muggles all around.

But Ginny flailing around in a panic, completely clueless as to how to stop the burning without any magic, turned out to be a fantastic source of laughter for everyone else, Astoria included, so Ginny decided it wasn’t that bad. Astoria laughing this morning had been a relief, but Astoria laughing because of Ginny was even better. Ginny would eat a hundred flaming broodjes if it meant Astoria was smiling and laughing.

After they had lunch, they took a short train to Den Haag. Ginny was about to resume her verbal letter for Astoria, but as soon as Ginny took her seat, Astoria just said, “Wake me up when we’re pulling in.” Then she made a makeshift pillow out of her coat and rested her head against the window. 

When they got to Den Haag, Ginny understood the nap: they had barely stepped off the train when a woman in what seemed to be expensive muggle business attire called Astoria’s name and hurried over. 

“How’s your sister?” The woman asked Astoria as they kissed each other’s cheeks. “How’s the trip been? Everything going as planned? Love the hair.”

“Good, good, all good, thanks,” Astoria said. “We just finished our walking tour of Rotterdam. Thank you again for all your input, Mia.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal.” She patted Astoria’s shoulder and then turned her attention to the rest of the group. “Hello, hello! I’m Mia Sahuleka, Director of what you would call the Department of Magical Games and Sports here in the Netherlands. I hope you’ve all been enjoying your stay so far here?”

There was a chorus of yes, yeah, great, and the like.

“Wonderful! Well, no time to waste.” Sahuleka reached into her handbag and pulled out a small bag, which she handed to Astoria. “Take one, pass it around. They slip into your ear so you’ll all be able to hear me as we walk. We have a brief tour of the city, but the real fun is when we get to the Binnenhof.” She grinned as if nothing could possibly be more exciting than whatever a Binnenhof was. “Off we go then!”

Sahuleka set a brisk pace through muggle streets, casually tossing out random facts about everything from architecture to pigeons. After about ten minutes, she led them into a building that seemed to be some sort of visitor centre and waved them through a door in the back.

“Okay, wands out, bags in the trunk over here,” Sahuleka said, pointing to a large trunk against one wall. “And empty your pockets of any weapons or magical objects of any sort as well, even sweets. We can’t afford any mishaps on the tour, and you will be checked.” 

As they all quickly checked their pockets and put their bags away, a man came into the room and closed the door. “Let’s see those wands, kids,” he said. One by one, he checked all of their wands just as they’d had their wands checked at the French and Belgian Ministries. When he checked Astoria’s wand, he frowned. “Sure you’re a witch?”

“Of course she is, Henk,” Sahuleka said sharply. “She’s Prospero Orsini’s niece.”

Henk arched an eyebrow at Astoria. “Pardon me, your highness.”

“Is there anything wrong with my wand?” Astoria said irritably. 

“Just strange you haven’t used it in several days,” Henk said as he held it out to her.

Astoria snatched her wand back and said, “ _Lumos_.” The tip lit up for a moment, and then she waved it out. “Happy? I just haven’t needed it.” Then Astoria turned on her heel and went off to the furthest end of the room, looking furious, until everyone else’s wands were checked.

When they all passed the security check, Sahuleka led them back out of the building, across the street, and through an archway with lions and a crown decorating it. They came into a large, stone courtyard with an ornate building in the middle, set apart from the rest of the complex’s buildings by its stained-glass windows and the decorative towers on each side. 

“Welcome to the Binnenhof!” Sahuleka said. “Home of the Dutch Parliament and the Ministry of Magic. In front of you is the Hall of Knights, where Queen Beatrix makes her annual address to Parliament from her throne and the start of our tour. Why don’t you all stand in front first so I can make a picture for you?” 

As soon as she had taken the photo, she hurried them all inside and began a detailed yet fast tour of the inside of the entire Binnenhof. As they went, they passed several muggles who all seemed to work for the Dutch government and also seemed to know Sahuleka. At one point, she even excitedly told them that the man they’d just waved to was “His Excellency Kok,” who seemed to be like the muggle version of Minister for Magic.

Ginny’s head spun as she tried to keep up with the woman’s bright, speedy tour, pointing out the names of just about every long-dead man in every portrait, statue, and fresco. Just as Ginny was about to give up and ask how or why or what was even going on, Sahuleka led them through a door at the end of a long hallway and down a spiral staircase. Ginny was sure the door hadn’t been there just moments before.

“And this is, of course, the Ministry of Magic,” Sahuleka said as they stepped into another grand hall. 

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief: _magic._ There was magic everywhere she looked: memos flying around, long cloaks swishing as witches and wizards walked, owls hooting, wands out—this at least made sense. As much as the muggle world fascinated her, it was overwhelming, not to mention her confusion about why the Director of Magical Games of Sports seemed to know half the muggle government officials too.

“And if you look up,” Sahuleka continued, “you’ll see our aquatic neighbours in the Hofvijver.”

Ginny looked up and saw that the ceiling was almost entirely glass, giving them an underside view of a small lake. Many of the canals they’d passed had looked dirty, but the water here seemed clean and fresh, and she could see a wide assortment of creatures, magical and otherwise.

“They can’t see us, of course,” Sahuleka said. “The glass is enchanted, otherwise the lake above might glow.”

“It’s beautiful,” Alexis said.

“You’re in the wrong house,” Harrison said, grinning.

Sahuleka then led them on an exhaustive (and exhausting) tour of the entire Dutch Ministry of Magic. It was a lot like the British Ministry of Magic, with familiar decor and all the expected departments, but it seemed… brighter, somehow. Ginny suspected it was probably a mix of the higher than average use of the colour orange and the fact that the Netherlands hadn’t just been through two gruesome wars in recent memory.

At the end of their tour, they met with the Dutch Minister for Magic, Johan Berkenbosch. He gave some brief, obviously prepared speech welcoming them to the Netherlands, thanking them for coming, and complimenting Hogwarts, the Harpies, and the Academy. He shook hands with them one by one, but it was clear he had other places to be. 

When he got to Astoria though, she didn’t let go of his hand. “Thank you for your time, Minister Berkenbosch,” she said. “May I ask you a question?”

He looked uncertainly at his assistant and Sahuleka. “Of course, Miss…?”

“Greengrass. As you may be aware—”

“I can do it, Astoria,” Ciorstaidh said quietly.

Astoria looked at her and frowned. “Are you sure?”

Ciorstaidh nodded and pushed herself forward to face Berkenbosch. Ginny could see that she was shaking, and Astoria slipped her hand into Ciorstaidh’s. When Ciorstaidh spoke, it was in Dutch. Her voice shook, and Ginny could tell she was stumbling over her words, but she pressed on anyway. 

Ginny didn’t know what she was saying, but it clearly wasn’t something Berkenbosch was keen to hear, judging by the expression on his face. She exchanged a glance with Mark, who looked just as uncertain as Ginny felt. He gave a slight shake of his head though, answering Ginny’s silent _should we do something?_

Ciorstaidh continued for a few minutes, crushing Astoria’s hand as she spoke. Then, she and Berkenbosch went back and forth a bit before he patted his pockets in search of something. His assistant was at his side in an instant, parchment and quill in hand, scribbling down notes. When they finished, Berkenbosch thanked Ciorstaidh and Astoria both and shook their hands, looking like he was all too happy to be done but trying very hard not to look so relieved.

Berkenbosch shook a couple more hands, and then Sahuleka hurried them along, back through the Ministry, up the staircase, and into the muggle world again. They were apparently running late for their train, but Sahuleka walked faster than seemed possible given that she was hardly any taller than Ginny even. Soon enough, they were back at Den Haag Central Station. They were just in time for their train, which started moving before they’d even found their seats.

Ginny followed Astoria to their seats which were, as expected, together, but as soon as she sat down, Sahuleka tapped her shoulder.

“Do you mind if I talk to Astoria for a bit?” she asked Ginny.

“Oh, er,” Ginny said.

“We have assigned seats,” Astoria said.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Sahuleka said. “The inspector won’t care.”

Before Ginny could even consider getting up, Astoria’s hand closed around her wrist. “It’s part of the learning experience,” she said. “Ginny’s supposed to go over the discussion questions with me on the way.”

While Ginny was trying to listen to what was going on, the shock of Astoria’s hand on her wrist seemed to have caused her brain to lock up momentarily. Sahuleka said something, but all Ginny heard was her pounding heart and her brain screaming, _she’s touching me._

“Sorry,” Astoria said when she let go a moment later. Sahuleka had left. 

“Does she bother you?” Ginny asked.

“What? No. I like Mia. There’s no way this trip would have happened without her help.”

“I’m not supposed to be going over any questions with you though.”

“Well, I’m not about to tell Mia that the manager of the Harpies is insane and very likely keeping tabs on us both right now. That would just sound paranoid.”

“Only a little.”

Astoria just shrugged and turned to look out the window.

“What was all that about with Ciorstaidh earlier?”

“Oh.” Astoria looked back at Ginny. “You know one of her dads was from here, right?”

“One of—?”

“Her dads are gay. Were. One died when she was pretty young, and the other—the Dutch one—he died in the war. He had it pretty rough here. His parents kicked him out, and the muggles who gave him shelter had their minds wiped when the Ministry found him. Ciorstaidh managed to track them down though, and she found out the super tolerant Dutch government has been making it incredibly difficult for wizarding LGBT groups to work with muggle ones, despite how much they like to brag about their great muggle-wizard relations.”

“Making it difficult how?” Ginny asked carefully, surprised Astoria was actually talking to her and worried she might stop if she realised it herself.

“Memory charms in the name of protecting secrecy. The Ministry of Magic gets to be best mates with the muggle government, but you need prior approval to do that sort of thing yourself. It’s a bunch of bureaucratic red tape, and Ciorstaidh found out that Berkenbosch has been refusing to meet with LGBT groups for years, same as everyone before him, so they can’t even get prior approval anyway. The government claims they don’t have a problem with gay people, but the only gay people they like are the ones who keep it to themselves. You can be gay as long as you don’t tell anyone.

“Anyway,” Astoria continued, “McGonagall is going to have my hide for it when she finds out, but I told Mia we really wanted to meet Berkenbosch, and she swung some things to make it happen.”

“Do you think McGonagall is, er, homophobic then?”

“What? No. I mean, yeah, sure. She never would have gone with Averford’s insanity if she wasn’t easily fooled by her own presumptions of heterosexuality.”

“What?”

“Oh, c’mon, Ginny, McGonagall knows we used to sneak out together. She had to sign off on every detail of the trip. Just because I’m her poster child for ‘good Slytherins’ doesn’t mean she wouldn’t need a damn good reason to stick the two of us together at every possible moment. She was incredibly reticent to let a _boy_ come on the trip. Obviously, everything would have been fine if it was just girls because it’s not like girls are going to have sex if you leave them unsupervised for a week in Europe.” Astoria patted Ginny’s knee. “Thanks for being here to protect my chastity, Ginny.”

“Merlin,” Ginny said, more at the shock of Astoria touching her unexpectedly than anything Astoria had said. Touching her and laughing about sex of all things. _Merlin._ Ginny felt like taking the Ancient Runes N.E.W.T. probably would have been easier than trying to make sense of Astoria right now.

“Anyway, she’s just going to have my hide for orchestrating an ambush on the Dutch Minister for Magic. She doesn’t know Ciorstaidh’s pa was gay, so it’s not like she’s going to realise it was a _gay_ ambush.”

“Seems like an overreaction.”

“What?”

“Orchestrating an ambush on the Dutch Minister for Magic is just a normal Wednesday for you, isn’t it? She should have already been expecting it.” Ginny grinned.

“We’re not friends, Weasley,” Astoria said, her voice suddenly dark and harsh. 

“I—what?” 

Astoria turned away and curled into the window, staring determinedly at the landscape rushing past.

“To think McGonagall actually worried you needed anyone to protect your _chastity_ ,” Ginny sneered before she could stop herself. The words spilled right out of her mouth, and all Ginny could do was watch in horror, unable to catch them. “You do just fine scaring everyone away all on your own.” _Stop, stop, stop._

Astoria whipped her head back around. She looked furious. “Go,” she growled. 

“I’m sorry. That was—”

“ _Go._ ”

“Astoria—”

Astoria shoved Ginny’s shoulder. “I said—” Astoria stopped, eyes wide.

Iris was standing in the aisle, arms crossed, staring at Astoria with the same dark look she’d given Ginny yesterday. “‘How’s Ginny, Astoria?’” she said in a cold, mocking voice. “‘Have you talked to her lately? Oh, you have? She’s good?’ You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Iris,” Astoria said in an incredibly tiny voice. 

“She’s spent all year pretending nothing at all happened between you two,” Iris said to Ginny, eyes still on Astoria. “As if she thinks I’m stupid.”

“Iris.”

“I’m used to everyone else thinking I’m just a dumb, ditzy mudblood—”

“ _Iris!_ ”

“—but I’ve gotta say, it’s really something else knowing even Astoria thinks I’m so stupid that she’ll have a fight within earshot of me—”

“Iris, please.” Astoria’s voice was barely more than a whisper, as if her throat had closed in panic.

“—and have the nerve to—”

“Iris,” Ginny said gently. 

Iris stopped and looked at Ginny without the slightest hint of kindness in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

“Stay out of this,” Astoria told Ginny. “Iris, I’m—”

“Just give me one good reason you’re being a twat to Ginny,” Iris said. 

Astoria sighed and sank into her seat. “I’m just tired. Sorry, Ginny. You can stay.”

“God, you’re such a child.” But that was apparently enough for Iris, and she returned to her seat.

Astoria returned to sulking in her corner, and Ginny shifted awkwardly as she tried to make sense of everything. Astoria, Iris, _pretending nothing happened between you two._ Ginny was tired, and not just from being on her feet all day, listening to exhaustive tours of Dutch cities. She was exhausted from Astoria and trying to figure out what she wanted. It was like she wanted to act like nothing at all had ever happened between them, not just last August, not just the past year, but all the years they’d been friends too. 

That was so much worse.


	14. An Uphill Struggle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warnings: mention of systemic sexism, classism, mention of weight loss, bullying, mild violence (no gore), mentions/references to the war, ableist insults

They didn’t say a thing for the rest of the train journey to Amsterdam, other than Ginny saying, as neutrally as she could, “Astoria, we’re here,” to wake her up. They didn’t speak as Sahuleka led them out of the train station and straight into a roaring pub that was very obviously the entrance to a sort of Dutch Diagon Alley. Sahuleka was as enthusiastic and knowledgeable about Amsterdam as she had been about Den Haag, but she took no detours as she led them straight to the inn they were staying in.

Mark picked up the keys from the innkeeper, and Ginny helped him distribute them to everyone. 

“We’ll be heading out for dinner in an hour,” Mark told the group. “You’re free to do what you’d like until then, but you _must_ check-in with Ginny or myself if you’re going to leave the inn, and under no condition should anyone go to the muggle side. Understood?”

“You got it, boss man,” Alexis said as others nodded and muttered agreement. “Don’t think any of us could get any further than the door if we wanted anyway. I think my arse might have fallen off from all that walking.”

“We’ll have to retrace our steps then,” Iris said seriously. “That’s a very nice arse. What will McGonagall say if we lose one of Gryffindor’s finest arses?” 

Alexis laughed and hit the back of Iris’ head playfully, which turned into her arm around Iris’ shoulders as the two of them headed off to their room, laughing. The other students all followed, which hardly surprised Ginny. They were all looking pretty worn, not just Astoria.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Mia,” Mark said to Sahuleka once the students had all cleared out. “Astoria absolutely didn’t clear that with—”

“It’s fine,” Sahuleka said, waving it away. “I’m not surprised. I probably should have known there was a reason Astoria was so adamant about meeting Berkenbosch.”

“I hope whatever Ciorstaidh said—”

“She was fine.” Sahuleka caught Ginny’s eye, with something almost conspiratorial about the look on her face. “Just some old family business. I think Berkenbosch was just surprised because he didn’t realise Sieger Van Dijk had gone to Scotland. Nothing bad.” That must have been Ciorstaidh’s father.

Mark didn’t look entirely convinced. “Well, it still was inappropriate. Astoria should have—”

Sahuleka shook her head. “It was really no big deal at all. Astoria was protecting her friend’s privacy. She doesn’t know me well, so I understand why she didn’t clear it with me first. There’s really no reason to be upset with the girls.”

Mark sighed, still unconvinced but done arguing. “Thanks for humouring them then.”

Sahuleka smiled at him and then turned her attention to Ginny. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced yet. You’re Ginny Weasley, right?” 

“Er, yeah,” Ginny said, suddenly self-conscious as to why some woman who seemed to be a personal friend of Astoria’s knew her name.

“Mia.” She held out her hand to Ginny. “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t get Rookie of the Year.” Oh, right, quidditch. The Director of Magical Games and Sports probably followed quidditch in other countries too.

“Thanks.” Not that Ginny didn’t still feel incredibly awkward and uncertain.

“I’m going to head up to my room,” Mark said. “I think the girls are probably too beat to get up to much trouble, so you should probably take a rest if you can too, Ginny.”

“Yeah, I will, thanks,” Ginny said, though she was entirely sure that she didn’t actually want to go to her room and deal with Astoria. They’d been forced to spend enough time together already as is, and they were once again rooming together tonight. There was no need to add to their mandatory bonding time.

Mia watched Mark leave and then she looked at Ginny again, casual pleasantries gone from her face. “Do you know what room Astoria’s in? Her sister’s an old friend. I promised I’d check on her for Daphne while she was here.”

“Er, yeah, she’s probably staying with me,” Ginny said awkwardly. 

“Do you mind? Daphne’s been pretty worried about her, and maybe I’m just not used to seeing her in muggle clothes, but she seems a lot thinner than when I saw her over Christmas.”

“You saw her over Christmas?” Ginny asked before she could stop herself. “Sorry, that’s way too personal.”

“It’s okay. Yeah, she was staying with Daph when I went for a visit. I try to visit Daph whenever I can. Italy can’t keep a government to save their lives right now, and the poor girl spends most days trying to convince a bunch of crotchety, old, white men to calm down and work out their disagreements like adults. I don’t know how she does it. Games and Sports is hard enough.” She shook her head. “Girls gotta stick together though, you know?”

“Yeah.” Ginny realised she hadn’t the faintest clue what Astoria’s sister did, other than live in Italy and, presumably, work for the government in some capacity. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but somewhere behind Sahuleka’s casual tone and smile, Ginny recognised the frustration. Hermione had plenty of complaints about the “crotchety, old, white men” who held most of the real power in the British government and resisted every single change she’d tried to put through. Ginny wondered what Astoria’s sister cared enough about to fight for, but she didn’t ask.

“Anyway, I just wanted to check in on Astoria and see how she’s doing,” Mia said. “If she’s anything like her sister, she could probably use some reminders to step back and take care of herself sometimes too.”

“No, that sounds exactly like Astoria.” Ginny glanced at the room number on her key, convinced that she didn’t care if Astoria was mad at her for bringing Mia to their room. “C’mon, I think it’s this way.” Then she shifted her grip on her bag and led Mia up the stairs and to the room.

“Ginny,” Astoria said when she opened the door. She was lying in bed, but she pulled herself up to sit and looked at Ginny. Then Mia followed Ginny in, and Astoria’s eyes fell on her instead. She looked disappointed. “Oh, hey, Mia.”

“Sorry,” Mia said, “I bullied Ginny into letting me come up.”

“It’s fine,” Astoria said. “I was just about to take a nap, that’s all.” She looked back at Ginny, as confusing and unreadable as ever. 

“Me too,” Ginny said. She was far too tired to care what was going on inside Astoria’s head right now. It was a labyrinth Ginny was tired of getting lost in, so she dropped her bag and flung herself down on her bed instead.

“Can we talk?” Mia said quietly to Astoria.

“Hey, Weasley,” Astoria said. Cool, back to last names then. 

“What?” Ginny said without lifting her head.

“Catch.”

Ginny looked up just barely in time to see Astoria toss a potion bottle at her and catch it. “What’s this?”

“So we don’t keep you up. Two taps on the neck should give you half an hour, maybe more. Most people don’t wake up as soon as it wears off.”

Ginny looked between the bottle and Astoria. Was Astoria being nice? Was she just trying to get privacy? Ginny decided she didn’t care. She at least trusted that Astoria had, in fact, given her a sleeping potion and not something else. It didn’t matter why. Ginny was tired, and a sleeping potion was a great way to be sure Astoria didn’t keep Ginny up, not by talking but by simply existing. 

“Thanks,” Ginny said. She tapped her wand as Astoria had instructed her and then drank the small bit of liquid that came out. “Here.” She tossed the bottle back across the room, which Mia caught without even looking. 

Ginny laid back down and rolled away from them. Within seconds, she felt her eyelids grow incredibly heavy and the muscles in her body begin to relax. It happened so quickly that it frightened her a bit, and she tried to fight the pull of sleep, but it was useless. She was fast asleep almost immediately.

“Ginny.” Someone shook her shoulder gently, but it felt distant, as if she only knew it was happening because she was watching it rather than feeling it. “C’mon, we have to go down for dinner.”

The thought of food made Ginny’s stomach rumble. That she could feel for real, not just distantly. Food. Ginny forced her eyes open and blinked in Astoria’s face. 

“Astoria,” Ginny said. She giggled at the feeling of the word in her mouth. It felt nice, so she said it again. “Astoria.”

“Welcome back to earth,” Astoria said. She held out her hand. 

Ginny took her hand and let Astoria pull her to her feet. For a moment, they just stood there. Astoria’s hand was soft, and her eyes were pretty, and—Ginny felt the air get knocked out of her lungs. She staggered back, but Astoria caught her before she could fall over.

“And now welcome back to having feelings about everything,” Astoria said. She dropped her hands from Ginny and stepped back. “Sorry. I forgot how disorienting it is the first time.”

Ginny’s brain seemed to be racing through time, playing back the entirety of her relationship with Astoria in the span of seconds, from hatred to friendship to dancing miles above the world to everything crashing down in an instant. It was more than a little disorienting, and it was not at all like any sleeping potion Madam Pomfrey had given Ginny.

“How long was I out?” Ginny asked when her brain caught up to the present. She felt like she’d been asleep for several hours. 

“Almost an hour. I would have let you sleep, but—”

“Shit, we gotta go.”

“Yeah.”

Ginny shook herself and looked around, trying to figure out what she needed to grab.

“Wand, maybe a light cloak if you think you might get cold,” Astoria said. “Mia’s just taking us down the street.”

“Right,” Ginny said as she grabbed her things.

“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier.”

Ginny didn’t know what to say to that, so she just shrugged on her cloak and slipped past Astoria and out the door.

After dinner, they all said goodbye to Mia and then gathered in the inn’s common area to go over the reflection questions for the day. Ginny only half paid attention. It was a bunch of school stuff, asking questions about governmental structure, academic curriculum, and historical contexts. She tried to pay attention enough to know when she was supposed to read out one of the prompts, but her brain could only handle so much more information. Ginny was relieved when they finally wrapped up.

Mark and Ginny dismissed everyone to their rooms, briefly went over the plans for tomorrow, and then said good night. Ginny was just about to follow him up the steep, narrow staircase when she noticed Astoria, yawning in the corner as she wrote in a notebook. Something about the way she was sitting or glancing up every so often made Ginny suspicious. Against her better judgement, Ginny walked over to Astoria and cleared her throat.

“Can I help you?” Astoria said without looking up. 

“You’re up to something,” Ginny said.

Astoria stopped writing and looked up. “I’m what?”

“You’re waiting for everyone to leave.” 

Briefly, Astoria’s eyes betrayed her: she was caught. “I’m just trying to write down some notes before I forget.”

“Astoria.”

“Yes, fine, I was waiting for all of you to clear out. Imagine wanting privacy.”

Ginny folded her arms across her chest. “You use snark to deflect when you’re hiding something.”

“Fucking hell. Fine.” Astoria looked around the room quickly and then grabbed Ginny’s hand and placed it on her forehead.

“You're as cold as ice.”

“I have a cold, I’m tired, and those stairs are absolute murder.”

“You have a cold?” Ginny thought Astoria had said it too easily, like a rehearsed lie. 

“I know, it’s unbelievable. My perfect, magically pure blood is supposed to be immune to such mundane things.” Astoria rolled her eyes. “I got sick at the end of break, and my body hasn’t had a chance to rest properly with all the constant travel, so it’s taking longer than it should to get over it.”

“What, are you waiting here to sneak off to some shady healer then?”

“Don’t be absurd. I told you. It’s those bloody stairs. Harrison and Iris are already worrying about me as it is. I don’t need to cause any more worry by struggling to climb some stairs. I’ve fought McGonagall almost every day all year to make this trip happen. I’m not about to let the others miss out because they’re too busy worrying about me. So yes, I am waiting for everyone else to go so I can struggle in private.”

Ginny fought back the impulse to throw her arms around Astoria and hug her. Instead, she held out her hand and said, “We can go up together.”

“What part of ‘in private’ don’t you understand?”

“The part where if you don’t let me help you, I’ll have to tell the others that I think you don’t just have a cold.”

“I’m not being proud.”

“I never said you were.”

“You implied it. You think I’m just being stubborn and proud, and if I just let everyone worry about me, everyone would be happier.”

“I think if you’re so unwell that you can’t handle walking up some stairs without causing mass panic, someone should be worrying about you. Should I go get Harrison?”

“No.”

“Iris?”

“No.”

“Mark?”

“Fucking hell, okay. Fine.” Astoria snapped her notebook shut and put it in her bag, which she then handed to Ginny. Then she pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly. “Go on then. Let’s go, Mum.”

As soon as they got to their room, Astoria got herself ready for bed and hurried herself to sleep without another word to Ginny. Ginny couldn’t say she really minded. Astoria was in a foul mood, no doubt furious that Ginny had cornered her into tolerating even just the slightest bit of concern for her health. Ginny was relieved to have a break from putting up with Astoria’s snark. 

As exhausting as the day and Astoria had both been though, Ginny’s mind was too awake. Hoping it would clear her head, she grabbed some parchment and her quill and whispered out a letter to Ron. It was mostly about Astoria and how maddeningly confusing she was being, but Ginny tried to throw in bits about the trip itself too.

When she finished the letter, she went back down the (admittedly murderous) stairs to see if she could rent an owl, but she’d forgotten to get money exchanged for the local currency, and the bank was closed now. She’d just have to send it later. 

As she was putting the letter away in her bag back in their room, the silver ring on her finger caught her eye. _Take care of yourself, Ginny._ She looked over at Astoria and sighed. Astoria had tolerated far more than just a bit of snark from Ginny over the years. 

When Ginny got into bed, she found herself thinking back to when they’d first become friends. It was an accident, really. Ginny, fresh out of an awful lesson with Umbridge, had spotted Astoria and decided to follow her in the hopes of fighting someone she could actually hit. 

It wasn’t just that Astoria happened to be there though. Rhianna had been badgering Ginny to give Astoria a proper chance for almost a year, and Ginny was finding it annoyingly hard to argue with her lately. Astoria could have betrayed their definitely illegal quidditch club to Umbridge a million times already and climbed the ranks of Umbridge’s favourite pet Slytherins, but she still hadn’t. Even so, Ginny was sure Astoria was rotten to her core. She just needed proof to shut Rhianna up once and for all.

But instead of a reassuring display of all of Astoria’s worst characteristics and a satisfying fight with her least favourite student at Hogwarts, Ginny had witnessed Astoria being _nice_. Or at least as nice as a girl trying incredibly hard to maintain her persona as a snooty, pureblood princess could be. Astoria had found Goyle about to attack a first year who’d had the misfortune of crossing paths with him in a deserted hallway. Without wasting a second, she’d hurriedly informed Goyle that Umbridge was looking for him. It was urgent. Ginny knew it was a lie because she knew Astoria hadn’t seen Umbridge. 

Sure that Astoria had only made up the lie so she could torment the poor kid herself, Ginny had readied herself to leap triumphantly to the kid’s defence—and take out all her pent-up anger and frustration and fears on Astoria. But Astoria just told the kid she’d report him to Flitwick if he didn’t do something about the state of his robes and let him go, shaken but unscathed. 

Feeling guilty and ashamed that she’d gone looking for a fight, Ginny finally decided to give Astoria a chance a few days later after their usual late-night quidditch practice. 

> Late 1995. Hogwarts quidditch stadium. Early hours.

“I figured it out,” Ginny said when everyone else had left. 

“Figured out how to hold onto a broom finally, have you, Weasley?” Greengrass said, not bothering to look at Ginny as she did her usual inspection of the locker rooms. 

Ginny wanted Greengrass to look at her for this though, so she followed her down a row of lockers. When Greengrass tried to turn back around at the end, Ginny blocked her path, and Greengrass was stuck with no other option but to look at her. 

“Do you need a reward?” Greengrass sneered. “Bet you’ve never seen a sickle before have you? Do you even know how many knuts to a sickle?”

“I figured _you_ out,” Ginny said.

“Oh no,” she said with mock fear, “you’ve finally figured out that I slightly favour my right arm to swing. What ever shall I do?” 

Greengrass tried to duck past Ginny, but Ginny grabbed her arm and pulled her so close that their noses were almost touching. “I saw you help that first year,” Ginny said quietly.

Panic flashed across Greengrass’ face, but she quickly regained her haughty, impatient look. “Blocking bludgers with your thick skull seems to be taking its toll. Do you need me to go easy on you now?”

“Goyle was going to curse the kid, and you _saved_ him. A muggleborn. Umbridge wasn’t looking for Goyle. You just made that up to help that kid get away.”

“Spying on me now, are you?”

“Maybe.” Ginny grinned. “Gonna report me to Umbridge? Or are you going to deal with me yourself just like that first year?”

Greengrass narrowed her eyes and looked at Ginny like she was trying to reach straight into her mind. Then, suddenly, she grabbed Ginny’s shoulder, shoved her back into the lockers, and put her wand to Ginny’s throat. “This isn’t some stupid little game, Weasley,” she hissed. “He’s back, and he’s going to kill you and all your little friends if you don’t find something better to do with your time than follow me around.”

“Oh, are you his favourite little princess? Gonna send your big, scary—”

“That wasn't a threat, Weasley. It was a warning.”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then Greengrass lowered her wand and let go of Ginny. 

“You’re scared,” Ginny said softly. 

Greengrass turned and made a big deal of looking like she was still trying to clean up, but Ginny could tell she wasn’t really paying attention anymore. 

“I can teach you how to duel,” Ginny said. 

Greengrass snorted. “Is that supposed to be clever? An excuse to attack me? Or maybe you just want to make it look like I’ve attacked you without provocation? You’ll have to be a bit more clever than that if you want to outsmart me.”

“I’ll only use defensive spells unless you tell me otherwise, and we can do it after practice. Alone. There’s no point in me trying to tell anyone anyway. You could easily get me caught for sneaking out, and who’s Umbridge going to believe? She hates me, and she likes you even though she hates children and you’re like ten.”

“I’m thirteen, Weasley.”

“Exactly.” Ginny stepped in front of Greengrass and held out her hand. “So we have a deal?”

“You’ve lost your bloody mind.”

“No, I told you, I’ve just finally figured you out.” 

Greengrass looked at Ginny like she was considering how best to snap her neck, but she said, “The forest. After practice Saturday. Convince Hughes to come, or it’s off.”

“Afraid to be alone with me?”

“Do you Gryffindor lot all have a death wish? _You_ shouldn’t want to go into the forest alone with _me_ , you gormless muppet. I could lure you straight into a trap. I don’t curse the pants off some random first year buffoon dumb enough to cross paths with Goyle, and suddenly you’ve gone from insisting I am the purest form of evil known to Earth to wanting to skip around through the forest like best mates?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

Ginny had never seen Greengrass look so utterly horrified, and it was better than she ever could have imagined. Ginny had finally found a way to really get under her skin.

“You’re bringing Hughes because I’m not duelling you,” Greengrass explained. “You can show off your shoddy footwork and childish bogey nonsense on her, and I can have a nice laugh at the both of you.”

“It’ll be so good to see you smile,” Ginny teased, barely keeping herself together.

Greengrass flinched like she had nearly tried to hex Ginny but caught herself before she actually did it. “We are not and will not ever be friends, Weasley.” Then, abandoning her efforts to ensure not a single out-of-place broom bristle might give their secret nighttime quidditch practices away, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the locker room.


	15. The Divide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter content warning: mention of bullying based on gender norms
> 
> Pronunciation notes: Julia, Jonas, and Johanna are all pronounced with a y sound rather than the English j sound.

> Thursday, 4 May 2000. The Black Forest, Germany. Morning.

Ginny had started to get into a rhythm. Wake up early, see that Astoria had already cleared out completely, breakfast and travel, immigration checks, another foreign Ministry, and then off to the next destination. Today, after a brief tour of the German Ministry of Magic in Bonn, they had taken a portkey to The Black Forest. Somewhere through the maze of trees and narrow, winding mountain paths was, apparently, a small wizarding village and an even smaller school. 

They had been met in the middle of the forest, where their portkey dropped them, by Reinhold Müller. He was a very short, older wizard who seemed to know the forest like an old friend, evidenced by how often he talked to it along the way. Ginny was grateful he was leading them, and not just because she was sure they would have gotten lost if they’d tried to go on their own. 

Unlike Mia yesterday, Reinhold set a leisurely pace, stopping frequently to greet a plant or tell them about a creature that was scurrying away through the trees. Between his accent, everything having German names, and the fact that he was always facing away when he spoke, Ginny could only understand about half of what the man said, but she knew Luna would have absolutely loved this. The forest was beautiful, and there were countless things living in it that Ginny had never even seen before. 

When they finally reached the school—a large farmhouse with a long, hipped roof that went all the way to the ground floor—they were hurriedly pulled into the building by a very frazzled-looking woman. She tutted at Reinhold in German, and Ginny guessed that she was scolding him for his leisurely pace. Classes had clearly already begun for the day, and it seemed from her gesturing that she had been struggling in vain to maintain order amongst his students, most of whom seemed too young for Hogwarts. 

Once Reinhold had been thoroughly scolded for, quite literally, stopping to smell every single flower on the way from the portkey point to the school, the woman led Ginny, Mark, and the Academy students upstairs to a classroom where a bunch of teenagers were goofing off. The German students scrambled to attention when they realised she had arrived.

With exactly zero fanfare or introduction, she waved for the guests to join her students and jumped straight into today’s lesson: physics and the conservation of energy. Hogwarts definitely didn’t teach any of this, and it made Ginny’s head spin. Some of it was common sense—if you drop an object, it’ll fall—but Ginny had never thought about the whys or hows of it all. 

“Muggles have taught themselves how to fly through the sky and even go to the stars simply by understanding these fundamental laws of the universe,” the woman, Professor Maier, said at one point. “Understanding is the key to possibilities.”

By lunch time, Ginny’s head felt heavy and crowded with new information and questions. She was offered a small bit of relief though when one of the German students explained that they’d be studying magic after lunch. German law, the girl said, mandated the sorts of things students had to study in school, which applied to muggle and wizarding schools alike. That meant mornings were for muggle subjects, and afternoons were for magic.

As fascinating as muggle subjects like physics were, Ginny’s brain could only take in so much. 

Her hopes for a more familiar subject though were dashed as soon as the herbology lesson began. They were studying some sort of plant Ginny had never seen called Schwarze Waldschellen. It grew exclusively in the abandoned mines of the region and, though incredibly toxic on its own, was commonly used in various healing potions. It was fascinating, but as beautiful as its flowers were, Ginny felt her brain turning to mush as she tried to listen. She tuned out most of the lesson.

After herbology, they were led, along with the rest of the school, to a clearing behind the farmhouse, where some sort of sports pitch was marked on the grass. The older German students all hurried to pull out equipment from a small shed while Maier and Reinhold corralled the younger ones (who all kept running off in the wrong directions) to go change into their sports clothes. Someone had neglected to tell the Academy students to bring their sports clothes, so Mark and Ginny hurried back to the schoolhouse to grab everyone’s luggage.

When they returned, Reinhold and a couple of the older students had already started a match of some sort with the youngest ones on a smaller pitch Ginny hadn’t noticed earlier. They were on foot, running around and kicking a ball. It looked like a simple enough game. Once the Academy, including Mark and Ginny, had all changed into their sport clothes, Maier and the rest of the German students explained the rules of the game (a muggle sport called football). Then, they split into teams mixed with the Academy and their German peers and started the match.

Ginny was atrocious at first. She wasn’t supposed to use her hands, and the effort involved in resisting the urge to grab the ball was taking up all her remaining mental energy. She was so focused on not using her hands that the first time she had the ball, she just stared at it until Harrison, looking just as uncertain as Ginny felt, kicked it away from her. (“Sorry, Ginny!” he called as he ran after the ball.)

Once she got used to the concept of only using her feet, she kicked the ball with such enthusiasm that, on varying attempts, she managed to completely miss the ball and fall on her arse, kick the ball the completely wrong direction, kick the ball way off the pitch and into the trees, and kick the ball straight into Iris’ face. Despite her difficulties though, Ginny was having fun. Their hosts were patient with the Academy players, and once she started to get the hang of it, she started to see the football pitch as if it were a flat quidditch pitch, only with more players and no bludgers or snitches to worry about. 

Ginny had no idea who won. They hadn’t really bothered keeping score, and Ginny was far too sweaty and tired by the end of it to care anyway. After they caught their breath, they cleaned up and changed back into their normal robes. School was done for the day, but a handful of the German students had stuck around. According to the schedule on Ginny’s clipboard, they were supposed to go on a tour of the forest. Seeing the state of their British peers though, the German students (along with Reinhold) decided an afternoon spent relaxing outside the schoolhouse was a perfectly fine way to see the forest. 

At one point, a small animal that looked something like a large rabbit with wings and antlers hopped into the clearing and came very close to them. It stopped to sniff near Astoria and Harrison, who were sitting together at the edge of their group. 

“A Wolpertinger,” one of the German students explained, looking excited. “They’re very common in the forest, but it’s actually pretty rare to see one out in the open like this.” 

“You shouldn’t touch them though,” another added as Astoria crept her hand out toward it slowly. “They have nasty fangs, and if they get any spit on you, you’ll start growing fur.”

At this, Astoria pulled her hand back, and the Wolpertinger turned and hopped straight back into the forest.

“One time,” another student added, “a girl managed to befriend one, and it started licking her all over like a dog. Fur everywhere. The other kids all made fun of her at first, but then she started making friends with all sorts of forest creatures who thought she was more trustworthy because she had fur too. She became like the master of the forest and then everyone wanted to be like her.”

“That story’s not even true,” the first student said.

“Yeah, it is,” the other insisted. “My grandmother went to school with her.”

“It was like a thousand years ago.”

“Was not.”

As the friendly bickering about Wolpertinger legends began to envelop the rest of the German students, Ginny’s eyes wandered back over to Astoria. She didn’t seem to be listening to the conversation at all now, staring off into the forest where the Wolpertinger had run off, transfixed. 

Then, suddenly, Astoria’s eyes flickered over to meet Ginny’s. It was the first time all day that Astoria had actually looked at her. She held Ginny’s gaze for a moment that felt both incredibly long and incredibly short, unreadable in the sense that her gaze seemed to hold too much for Ginny to parse through. Then Astoria closed her eyes and curled closer into Harrison’s side. 

At half past six to the dot, a German girl Ginny thought was called Julia stood up and announced it was time for the next item on their itinerary: dinner. They had all been assigned host families, with whom they were to have dinner and spend the rest of the evening. As Mark, Ginny, Julia, and Reinhold helped everyone find their hosts, Astoria simply walked off. 

Within minutes, Ginny found herself paired off with Julia, who wasted no time at all launching into a hasty, wandering monologue detailing all kinds of information about where she lived and what each member of her family was like.

“Ready?” Astoria had reappeared, carrying both her own and Ginny’s bags. She followed Ginny’s gaze to the bags and shrugged. “I figured I’m with you.” 

“Here,” Ginny said. She took her own bag and then reached for Astoria’s as well, but Julia beat her to it.

“Come on,” Julia said, “my mother hates it when I’m late.”

As they walked the well-worn path toward the village, Julia told Ginny and Astoria everything they needed to know about staying with the Gehri family—and plenty they really didn’t. She lived with her mum, aunt, grandfather, brother, and sister, and Julia ensured Ginny and Astoria knew every little detail about them. 

After a while, as Julia continued to ramble, Astoria slowed slightly and leaned closed to Ginny. “Did you know ostriches aren’t native to Peru?” she said so only Ginny could hear.

Ginny’s foot hit a root, and she stumbled. Astoria caught her by her wrist before she could fall.

“Sorry,” Astoria said. She jerked her hand away from Ginny. Even in the growing darkness, Ginny could tell Astoria’s cheeks had turned pink. 

Ginny didn’t know what exactly Astoria meant, but she knew Astoria was talking about herself. Astoria had called herself a Peruvian ostrich the night before she’d left for school—before Ginny had ruined everything between them. Ginny might not understand what Astoria meant by it, but she could feel the weight of this brief moment deep in her gut.

“I think an ostrich can be Peruvian if it wants to be,” Ginny said. She hoped it was the right thing to say, and not just because she wanted to be friends again.

Astoria didn’t say another word the rest of the way. 

They arrived just in time for dinner. Grandpa Donar insisted on having Astoria sit with him, and Ginny was dragged off to the other side of the table to sit with Jonas, Julia’s little brother. Jonas spent most of dinner asking Ginny to say random words in German, giggling wildly at each one. 

When dinner was over, Julia, Jonas, and their sister Johanna cleaned up quickly and brought out some kind of colourful playing cards. They explained the rules of a game called Cego that made absolutely no sense to Ginny. Jonas insisted on playing as a team with Ginny though, so she didn’t actually have to decide any of their moves. They lost a lot, but Jonas was a good sport and seemed to get far more joy out of picking cards with Ginny than the game itself. 

Eventually, their mum said it was well past Jonas’s bedtime, and Julia dragged her now-crying brother off to his room. Their mum added something in German to Johanna, and then Johanna waved for Ginny and Astoria to follow her upstairs. 

“You can have my room tonight,” Johanna said when she led them in. “I hope it’s okay.”

Ginny and Astoria exchanged an uncertain look that told Ginny Astoria had noticed the problem too. 

“It’s wonderful,” Astoria said, with not a trace of the trepidation with which she’d looked at Ginny a second before. “Thank you so much. We’re really sorry to inconvenience you like this.”

“Oh, no,” Johanna said, “not at all! I’m used to sharing with Julia and Jonas. I only just got my own room last year. It’s fine.” She smiled. “Well, I know it’s late, so if you’re sure it’s okay, I’ll let you be now. We’re just down the hall if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said. 

As soon as Johanna shut the door, Ginny and Astoria looked at each other again. Ginny didn’t want to be the one to say something first. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Astoria had already worked out a plan. Maybe—

“Argh!” Astoria groaned in a hushed voice. She flung herself down on the bed, lying on her back in what seemed to be defeat. “Ravish me.”

“What?” Ginny half-shrieked, heat rushing to her cheeks.

“She’s done it. She’s trapped us. Averford’s given us no choice but to fucking _sleep_ together, so why go half way?”

“I can sleep on the—”

“No. No one is sleeping on the floor. There’s no way you agree to me sleeping on the floor. There’s no way I agree to you sleeping on the floor. We are both far too stubborn, and attempting that argument will just be a waste of time.”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me.”

Astoria lifted her head slightly to look at Ginny. “Me sleeping on the floor doesn’t bother you?”

“No, I mean the, er—” she gestured vaguely at the bed. “It’s not ideal, but it’s one night, and you’re the one who has reason to be uncomfortable, not me. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

“What? Why am I supposed to be uncomfortable but not you?”

“You never tried to force yourself on me.” 

Ginny’s face burned, and she wished Astoria would say something. But Astoria just stared back, frowning. 

“Sorry,” Ginny added. 

“Save it for when your boss isn’t forcing you into bed with me,” Astoria said irritably. She stared back up at the ceiling. “‘If there’s any way I or the Harpies can be of any more support for you, Astoria,’” she sneered in a mock voice, “‘just let me know.’ Here’s one for you, Teresa: don’t try to fix my fucking life for me.”

“We can put up a barrier,” Ginny said. 

Astoria looked back up at her, still furious, but she blinked a few times, and her expression relaxed slightly. 

“I’m fine sleeping on the floor too,” Ginny added. “I don’t care. It’s whatever will make you most comfortable, okay? I know this is weird and fucked up. But we’re stuck with it for now, and you have a match tomorrow, so you need rest. If the best solution we have is to make a bloody wall down the middle of the bed, fine with me. If you’ve got any better ideas, feel free to share. I’m all ears.”

“Fine.” Astoria got up suddenly and started going through her bag. “You’re making it though.” Then she straightened up, pajamas in hand, and left the room.

Ginny looked at the bed and sighed. One step forward, thirty steps back. 

Ginny had never tried to make a wall down the middle of a bed before, and she certainly hadn’t actually given the idea any thought before suggesting it. With a fair bit of trial and error though, she eventually managed to make a thin, solid, semi-transparent barrier right down the middle of the bed. She kicked it a couple times, and when it didn’t budge, she decided it was good enough.

Astoria still wasn’t back yet. Ginny got herself ready for bed slowly, with a vague sense of unease. She didn’t know what exactly she was worried about—probably just Astoria’s general state of exhaustion and paleness and irritability—but her attempts to go to bed before Astoria came back proved useless. By the time Ginny laid down, Astoria had been gone too long for Ginny to relax.

After a few minutes staring at the ceiling, Ginny gave up. She left the room and went to the toilet, where she’d assumed Astoria had gone to change. It was empty. Her stomach turned. 

Downstairs, she found Grandpa Donar, who cheerfully explained that Astoria had gone for a walk in the woods behind the house. Dreading what that meant, Ginny hurried out in her pajamas. It didn’t take much for her mind to supply her with horrible visions of what might await Astoria in these woods, and Ginny quickened into a sprint down the dark trail behind the Gehri house. 

“Astoria?” Ginny called as she ran. “Astoria, are you out here? Are you okay? Astoria?”

Frustration and anger mixed in with panic and worry. Why was Astoria being so bloody stubborn about everything? Why couldn’t Ginny figure out how to get through to her? Why did everything about Astoria have to be so difficult and confusing?

“Astoria!” Ginny called some more. Leave it to Astoria to go running off into the woods alone at night. Leave it to Ginny to be so unbearable that she had to. Leave it to fucking Averford to only care about Astoria’s quidditch talents and getting her on the Harpies. Leave it to—

Ginny’s angry train of thought was interrupted as her eyes found a small figure huddled on the ground beneath a tree just off the path.

“Astoria?” Ginny said, far more quietly now. She knelt down in front of Astoria. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—if you need—it’s just that I’m not really sure it’s safe to be alone out here at night, so—”

Astoria lunged forward suddenly and wrapped her arms around Ginny’s neck. “Stop,” she choked out between sobs. 

Ginny’s brain stopped working. Astoria was hugging her. Astoria was also crying in front of Ginny, something she’d only ever done twice. They had been close then. Were they close now?

Somehow, Ginny worked out that she should hug Astoria back, and she awkwardly patted Astoria’s back while she cried. 

“I’m sorry,” Astoria said quietly. Her sobs slowed as if she was wrestling back control of herself, and she took a steadying breath. Then she pulled away, wiped the tears off her cheeks, and stood up. “Prague. Just Prague, and then this will all be over.” Without another word, she walked back down the path toward the house.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Astoria said quietly when she had finished getting ready for bed. 

“Er, yeah,” Ginny said. She stared up at the ceiling, unsure if looking at Astoria might upset her. 

Astoria took her potion and laid down on her half of the bed, separated from Ginny only by the magical barrier. “I am furious with the entire world,” Astoria said, barely more than a whisper, “and I want to take it all out on you.” Ginny could feel Astoria’s breathing slowing as her potion pulled her to sleep. “So don’t… don’t…” Astoria yawned. “Don’t… push me… please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] "There Was Only One Bed" fanfic trope
> 
> That's it. It's done. I know, so disappointing that Only One Bed didn't magically solve their issues. :P


End file.
